


Choices

by thecopperriver



Series: Choices [1]
Category: Being Human (UK), The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: AU, Abuse, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blood, Canon Typical Violence, Homophobia, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Minor Character Death, Slow Build, What if?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-12
Updated: 2014-11-27
Packaged: 2018-01-15 10:51:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 81,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1302181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecopperriver/pseuds/thecopperriver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Mitchell needed to leave Bristol?  What if Anders happened to meet him on the plane back from Norway, and never met Helen as a result?  How would their lives change?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic in this fandom, so constructive criticism is welcomed. Please let me know what worked and what didn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to ero0chibi0chan for taking the time to beta this chapter.

Mitchell sighs as he flops down into his seat on the plane, relief written in every line of his long body. He’s had enough of Bristol, enough of the vampire community. Now that Herrick is finally gone, he might have a chance to escape, and the space to get his head on straight. Every time he tried to give up blood before, there was always the nagging reminder in his head that Herrick would find him, Herrick would drag him back, Herrick would hurt whoever helped him. His sire didn’t like the idea that his attack dog would give up killing and used every technique in his arsenal to ensure he couldn’t.

He buries his face in his hands, scrubbing his fingers through his hair as he tries to process it all. His decision to get on a plane had been a hasty one, made during the initial euphoria the morning after Herrick’s death. Annie and George were reluctant to let him go, but he was sure Nina was happy to see the back of him. Although, she still resented that he was abandoning George. A loud clearing of someone’s throat roused him from his thoughts.

Mitchell raised his head to see a blond in a crisp grey suit standing next to his seat. “Excuse me mate, I’ve got the window seat.” The Irishman couldn’t conclusively identify his accent, but given their destination, he would bet that his seatmate was a Kiwi.

“Sorry, sorry.” The vampire stands up and does his best to scrunch himself out of the way of the blond so he can get past. The other is just the right height for him to get a strong whiff of the gel used to tame his hair as it brushes past Mitchell’s nose. Beyond that is the natural scent of the blond: some sort of spicy aftershave, laundry detergent, male musk, and a faint hint of the ocean. Sometimes having a vampire’s intensely acute sense of smell is irritating or disgusting, but this man actually smells rather nice. He processes this as the blond moves all the way past and they both sit down, but it takes a few more minutes for it to sink in that he doesn’t smell at all like food.   He’s encountered that before, werewolves don’t smell like food either, but this man doesn’t smell like a werewolf. Mitchell is immediately intrigued and resolves to try to get to know his seatmate. If the other man is indeed from New Zealand he could do much worse than making a new friend in a new country who he doesn’t want to snack on.

His opportunity to introduce himself comes shortly after the usual in-flight safety announcements. The blond attempts to casually shrug out of his suit jacket, but is limited by the seatbelt and the small amount of space. It also looks like he may have an injured left shoulder. As a result, he struggles too hard to get out of his sleeve and winds up clocking Mitchell in the head with his elbow.

Instantly he apologizes and seems to shrink away. “I’m sorry about that, there’s just no space in these damn seats. That’s what I get for not flying first class.” His voice is casual, but there’s an undercurrent of fear.

Mitchell frowns at the rather extreme reaction and the other just cringes. “No, no, it’s fine. No harm done, there’s no space at all in these things.” He realizes that his frown is making things worse and does his best to paste on an easy smile. George had told him more than once that his face could be rather intimidating. Or, well, being George it had come out more like _“what’s that face?”_ Turning to his seatmate, he offers his hand. “The name’s Mitchell. Is your elbow alright? I’ve been told I’ve got a rather hard head.”

The blond blinks a few times and comes back to himself with the greeting, no longer cringing away. As he offers his hand, Mitchell takes a moment to look him over. He’s already noticed the gel, it seems to be needed to tame the strawberry blond hair that has a slight curl despite it. He’s wearing a dark blue shirt with the grey suit, but no tie, and the top button is unfastened to show a glimpse of the tightly curled chest hair that closely matches the thick ginger beard he sports. Mitchell has a feeling that the beard is a relatively new addition, given the reddish lines on his neck that show the other has been scratching. His eyes however are what draw the vampire the most. They’re a brilliantly clear blue-grey he’s never seen before.

“Anders,” the other introduces himself, giving Mitchell’s hand a firm shake. “I feel like you should be more concerned with your head than my elbow. I’m sure both can be cured once the trolley dolly comes by with alcohol.”

As soon as Anders suggests it, Mitchell knows he’s going to have to come up with some way to refuse to drink. He can’t deal with the lowering of inhibitions around a plane full of people for almost twenty-one hours.

“No thanks mate. I hear you’re not supposed to mix alcohol and head injuries,” the vampire tries to put him off playfully, smiling. The other is cut off before he can respond by the usual pre-flight announcements. They both listen dutifully, Mitchell paying close attention because he’s not flown farther than across the Channel before. He’s been lucky this time in finding a vampire-friendly forger to create him a passport.

After the announcements, the two chat casually for awhile. Anders admits that he usually flies first class, but that’s just for business trips within New Zealand or occasionally to Australia. Mitchell confesses in turn that he’s only been on a plane once before (he’d rather not think about why Herrick had chosen to fly, they’d had to leave Italy in a hurry). As they talk, the brunet is happy to discover that he shares a lot of things in common with the blond. They both agree that pop music is a disgrace, and share a dry, sometimes sardonic sense of humour. Mitchell finds himself appreciating Anders’ bluntness. Too many people put a pleasant face on things or not say what they mean and it reminds him unpleasantly of Herrick. Eventually the topic of conversation comes around to why Mitchell is going to New Zealand.

“Wait, you’ve just up and moved countries? Why?”

“I had a really nasty experience with a... colleague harassing me back home. He was a policeman... He’s finally gone, but I just needed to get out of there and get a fresh start. I’m not really sure why I picked New Zealand.”

“That’s crazy. Well, if you’re staying in Auckland, I’d be willing to show you around a bit. Play tour guide.”

Mitchell can’t do anything but accept the offer. Anders may never know it, but it makes him feel so much more secure in his decision to move that he may have already made a friend. It feels like freedom, the liberation that came from the death of his sire is really starting to sink in.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments and constructive criticism is welcomed. I'm less happy with this chapter, but I don't want to keep sitting on it.

Anders sighs as he rolls over in bed, trying to find a comfortable position. The lingering warmth from Dawn feels strange, he’s not used to sharing a bed with anyone; at least when other... _activities..._ aren’t involved. For all that it would be awkward to share, he regrets making her think she had to leave. She was kind enough to look after his home and fish when he took off on short notice to Norway. He knows he asks more of her than he should, but she’s the closest thing to a friend he has.  

Although...rolling onto his back and spreading out on the bed, he muses that may not be so true anymore. The blond had complained to Dawn that he hadn’t slept on the plane due to the lack of alcohol but it was more because of his brunet seatmate. Anders had gotten so caught up in talking to the other man that he’d forgotten his usual need for alcohol to drown out the racing thoughts in his head.   He’d hardly noticed him at first, tired after his adventures in Norway and transferring planes, but the others' kindness when he’d managed to elbow him in the head caught his attention. Had he done that to any of his brothers, the best he could expect was a fist in return. He was ashamed that he’d actually shown some of his fear to the other man, but he’d been too tired and strung out to maintain his usual bravado. Mitchell had surprised him with his easy smile and attempt to put him at ease.

Once he began to pay attention, his first impression of the brunet was quite favorable. The first thing Anders noticed was that even though he looked tired and like he hadn’t washed his long curly black hair in too long, he was still incredibly striking. His tight black jeans showed off his long legs, and his leather jacket suited him perfectly. His heavy brows and intense hazel eyes made him look angry or brooding when his face was at rest, but when he smiled...? He wasn’t the god’s usual type, too scruffy, but Anders felt drawn to him anyways. He found he was actually glad he’d been forced to take a seat in coach after the cost of Norway put flying first class out of the question. He thought Mitchell might even become a friend rather than a one night conquest. It meant he’d have to be more careful that his brothers didn’t find out he swung both ways, but it would be worth it. For once, Anders managed to drift off to sleep with a smile.

* * *

Of course things never run smoothly for Anders Johnson, and he gets to work the following day to find that his mother has run his business into the ground and then shot through once again. Or so he thinks, until he gets to a meeting called at Mike’s bar, where he’s informed that she’s most likely dead, and the money that was supposed to repay his venture to Norway is first going to the Goddess bitches. As a crown to his wonderful day, he gets to spend the rest of it nursing his bruised jaw. Mike didn’t pull his punch at all, the cock. He already had a strained shoulder from some of the shit he went through to get that damned stick.

Anders sighs to himself. For once it would be nice if his family didn’t hate him for being himself. And what was up with Mike yelling at him for not telling them about their mother or where he’s been? Mike is all for respecting their mother’s wishes when it comes to denying Anders the money he’s owed, but when it comes to her request that Anders not tell his brothers until she’s ready? Then he gets smacked around, as usual. The faith his brothers had in him was truly inspiring. Even Ty didn’t believe that he could have succeeded in his quest.

When he gets back to j:pr Dawn takes one look at him, sighs, and gets up to fetch him an ice pack for his jaw. Sadly, it’s not the first time he’s gone into work bruised up, and nowhere near the worst.

“Who was it this time? Could it have been one of our clients who was pissed off you left for Norway without notice?” Dawn demands sharply, although there’s still a note of caring in her voice. She stands in front of him, arms crossed over her sensible cream dress, letting him know without words that she’s not going to let him get away without an answer.

“No, this time it was my brother who was pissed off I left without notice.” He pauses, noting that she tensed up at the mention of his brother. Right, she probably still has suspicions about Ty, he’d heard about that. With that in mind, he adds, “Mike’s a real control freak. He likes it when I’m gone, but only if he knows in advance and has a chance to approve it first.” The knowledge that’s more true than he’d like gives his mouth a bitter twist.

“So, Dawnsie, what’s on the schedule for today?” he cheerfully sings out while flopping on to the black leather couch, deliberately upbeat.

“Absolutely nothing, Anders. We have no meetings because we have no clients.”

The blond smiles charmingly at his assistant, “Aww, Dawn, it can’t be that bad. We’ll charm them back in no time. I have absolute faith in you.”

She sighs heavily at his response, but he sees her small smile as she turns away to sit back at her own desk. Dawn reaches to pick up the phone, probably to start trying to get their clients back, but he stalls her motion by speaking again.

This time, his words are quieter but much more sincere. “Thank you again for looking after my apartment while I was gone. I’m sorry for kicking you out of bed so late last night, I was too tired to realize how my words probably sounded.”

Dawn looks startled initially at the apology. It’s not often that Anders apologizes for anything, but she knows him well enough to know that it’s sincere whenever he does. As his words sink in, a faint blush colours her cheeks. “You’re welcome, Anders. I probably would have left anyways. It would be...awkward to share a bed with my employer.”

Anders gives her an understanding smile in return and they both turn to their work. The rest of the day in the office is quiet, although there is definitely an undercurrent of frustration as client after client is unavailable or uninterested. At four, Anders decides to call it a day.

“Go home, Dawn. We’re both getting frustrated here, and I know you had a late night of it. We’ll come back to this fresh tomorrow.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Go home, have some wine, put your feet up. I hear cats are relaxing.”

“I don’t have a cat!”

* * *

After Dawn’s departure, Anders sits in his dimly lit office for a little longer. He definitely regrets his trip to Norway, but more than that he regrets leaving Agnetha in charge of j:pr while he was away. He should have gone with his first impulse and left everything to Dawn to take care of, maybe have her hire temporary help while he was away. He trusts the blonde woman more than he’s trusted anyone for a long time, she would have taken care of his business.

He’d attempted to turn Agnetha down when she’d first offered her help, but she’d been persuasive. She headed a business empire after all, and was the Goddess of Prosperity. Surely some of that would rub off on his own business? And deep down, he’d also just wanted to believe in his mother. Sure, she’d loved Ty and even Mike more than she’d loved him, but she cared for him at least a little, right? Anders was the first one she’d revealed her return to after all. It seemed he was wrong to hope however. She’d killed to keep Ty safe, but Anders she had destroyed. The whole time he was in Norway his contact with her had been characterized with brush-offs and sharp criticisms. She hadn’t even kept her promise that he would be reimbursed upon his return.

That’s why he decided to head to Customs first thing in the morning, even though he should be going to j:pr. If he gets Yggdrasil back his brothers will _have_ to believe him. He’ll have gotten something out of his trip besides a destroyed business. Maybe for once someone will be grateful for something he’d done.

Only his visit doesn’t go quite the way he’d planned. The bitch behind the counter doesn’t seem susceptible to his powers. That’s never happened before, although granted he usually doesn’t try using them for things like this. His more ordinary sort of charm works just fine. As he leaves the facility, he decides to try using Bragi on a man he sees walking by, just to see if that woman is unusually resistant.

 ** _“Excuse me sir, you want to lend me $50 because I’m short and it will be your good deed for the day,”_ ** he tries in Bragi’s voice. He’ll give the money straight back, but it has to be a large enough amount to test the god’s influence.

“Sorry, what did you say? You were mumbling,” is the response he receives. That settles it, there’s definitely something wrong with his god powers. He ignores the man he was talking to and pulls out his phone instead. He dials a familiar number, hoping that for once the man it belongs to will answer.

“Yeah, Olaf here.”

“What? Grandpa, you actually answered your phone?” Anders stutters out, shocked. “No, never mind. I need to talk to you about something important. Get to my apartment as soon as you can.”

“Anders? What’s this about?”

“I need to talk to my Oracle, it’s important. Get to my place as soon as you can.” After he hangs up, he realizes that Olaf’s voice had sounded strange, but shrugs it off as from a bad phone connection or something. Hell, maybe Olaf was sober for once and that’s why he sounded different.

Olaf surprises him further by actually showing up in a reasonable amount of time. There’s definitely something off about him though, and it’s not that he’s sober for once. It’s not until Shona at Customs asks him about his father that he realizes what it is though. Seeing Olaf looking old is a definite shock to the system. For Anders’ entire life, Olaf has looked pretty much the same. It’s one of the few constants he’s had, and losing it... He’d deny it if asked, but he’s starting to get seriously worried. If Olaf is aging this fast...what if he dies?

When Mike calls, it’s actually a relief for once. His brother might be a control freak but when there’s something this big going on it works in Anders’ favour for once. He knows Mike won’t stop until this problem is fixed.

Getting Olaf back to his apartment is a bit of a struggle. His eyes turn to the slumped figure in the passenger seat almost like clockwork, and he swerves more than once because of it. It’s surreal to see him aging before his eyes. The blond can’t help growing even more concerned.   Olaf’s rapidly aging joints also give him trouble with the stairs at Anders’ apartment, and the height difference makes it awkward to help him up the stairs. Once Mike arrives, they finally get their explanation.

Anders has to snort a little at Olaf’s demanding, “have I taught you people nothing?”

 _“Well, no Grandpa, you really haven’t. You’re usually too busy getting stoned or surfing,”_ he thinks to himself, although he says nothing out loud. This is too serious for jokes and he’s worried about his baby brother. He’s also worried for himself, for what happens if Odin dies. Anders can’t help finding more twisted amusement at the look on Mike’s face when he mentions Michele was also sick. Honestly, why is he the first one to be concerned about a godly plague?

It’s sobering to see Olaf lying so still in his bed. Olaf has always been so vibrant, so alive, that seeing his normally tanned skin pale against the dark grey of Anders’ bedding... He’s not sure what to make of the fine wisps of hair that have sprouted from Olaf’s head. Aren’t men normally supposed to go bald as they get older? Instead Olaf grows more hair. His grandfather lives to defy convention.

Once Mike has left to look after Axl and Michele, he’s alone with Olaf. He really is concerned for his grandfather, but he has no idea how to look after him. Although he snarks at her, he’s actually rather relieved when Stacey shows up. The handmaiden is fantastic at caring for others. Her business plan is sound as well and normally he would approve, if it weren’t for the fact that he needs that money to pay off the debts he racked up in Norway. He also feels like he deserves it after Agnetha wrecked his business.

Anders is forced to appreciate Stacey further when she not only knows about the facility Yggdrasil is being kept in, but how to get it out. He hasn’t had much contact with her before, but he enjoys the sharp exchanges he has with her. He’s less amused by her joke about the toxic gas in the shipping container, but it’s possible that it wouldn’t have all dissipated anyways.

He’s a little annoyed when Olaf calls him an idiot for not bringing the stick directly to Axl. It’s not like he or Agnetha bothered to explain how it was used to him. He protests the assumption that he’s a wimp for being concerned about Axl’s infectiousness. If Axl really is tied to all of them, then his brothers might be more susceptible to his illness than others. He tries to point out that he brought back Yggdrasil, but the response isn’t flattering.

"Bragi, God of Retrievers,” Olaf grinds out with a rusty laugh. Anders huffs a sigh to himself. He should have known better than to hope his family would give him positive recognition. All he can do is curl up on his sofa with a bottle of booze and wait. Whether he’s waiting for the end or for Axl to get better, he’s not entirely sure. The blond vaguely recognizes that Stacey has returned with the stick but he doesn’t know if that’s good or not. She goes in to be with Olaf before he has a chance to ask, so he shrugs and turns back to the booze. As he gets drunker, he can’t help but think of Mitchell. He kind of misses the brunet, for all that he barely knows him. Anders hopes Mitchell will be alright if Axl dies and everything goes to shit. His last thought before he passes out is that he should have gotten his phone number.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the lovely GreenSorceress for taking the time to look over this chapter. Thanks also to my readers for the comments and kudos. Finding those keeps encouraging me to write. Comments and constructive criticism are welcome as always. Hope you enjoy.

Mitchell’s first task after stepping off the plane in New Zealand was to find a hostel to stay in. His impulsive decision to up and move to another country had unfortunately not included the foresight to find a place to stay first. Or a job. He turned to ask his seatmate if he had any suggestions as to where to stay, but he’d lost the blond man in the crush around the luggage carousel. He picked at his fingerless gloves absently and regretted missing the chance to ask the other for his phone number. They’d connected so well on the plane, and now he was probably never going to see him again. Sighing, he used a little of his vampiric strength to push his way through the crowd and retrieve his own luggage. He was exhausted and stiff from the long plane ride and only wanted to collapse somewhere and sleep.

The vampire stopped by the tourism centre on his way out of the airport, and the friendly Māori girl working there helped him book a room at the City Garden Hostel for the next week. It was even a single. He was able to catch the Airbus Express into the city centre, very near to the hostel. He checked in hurriedly and flopped face first on his bed, only pausing to kick his shoes off. It was still the middle of the day, but all he wanted was to pass out. He’d meant to sleep more on the plane but talking to Anders was just too interesting. And once the other man nodded off, he’d tried to do so as well but his mind just wouldn’t settle. Once he was on the plane and leaving Bristol, he couldn’t help but think back to the events that led him there.

* * *

_Mitchell was so exhausted from the stake Herrick had driven into his chest that he just wanted to collapse and sleep for a month, but he couldn’t afford to. He had to protect his friends. They didn’t understand what Herrick was capable of, and if he let them come with him or try to help they would die. He couldn’t let that happen. For all the terrible things he’d done in his long life, he needed to be able to do something good. He needed to protect George and Annie. He knew how selfish a thought that was, that protecting his friends couldn’t even begin to make up for his years of carnage, but he had to start somewhere._

_Mitchell knew how selfish he was. If he hadn’t been, he would have been able to refuse Josie’s offer. He wouldn’t have killed her. He should have let himself die, but even after all this time he was frightened of death. Hell, he was probably more scared now than he was when he first met Herrick. On the battlefield, death was expected. It was only after he woke up as a vampire that death held true terror. He knew what waited for him on the other side now._

_It was the fear he felt for George and Annie that forced him to push himself out of bed now. The vampire hadn’t had enough blood to really heal him, not after the stake came so close to his heart, not after it’d been so long since the last time he fed. Mitchell knew that facing Herrick now would lead to his death, but he was more afraid for George. Afraid that his truly good and kind friend would go after his sire for Mitchell’s sake and get himself killed. His only hope was to fight the elder vampire himself and get him to agree to leave Annie and George alone in exchange for Mitchell’s death._

_Mitchell was surprised that his sire had to be goaded into the fight. He would have thought that Herrick would have relished the chance to take care of his wayward recruit once and for all. He certainly hadn’t hesitated back in the funeral parlour or in sending goons to the hospital. His sire’s obsession with him had always been unusual though. Seth had long been jealous of the attention Mitchell was paid. For some reason, the older vampire had held the Irishman closer than any other vampire he’d recruited. And for all of Herrick’s rhetoric about Mitchell having the blackest heart of them all, that certainly hadn’t been true at first. He’d been one of the most reluctant converts, struggling tooth and nail to hold onto his humanity. Maybe that’s why his sire was so reluctant to give him up now. Mitchell’s death trying to protect his friends would prove that Herrick hadn’t blackened his heart permanently, only buried it for a time under the blood and death.  That young Irish lad who’d made a deal with the devil so his men could live was still there._

_It was such a strange feeling for Mitchell, standing alone on the roof waiting for his death. He had armoured himself in black clothing and leather before he left the house, wanting to look dangerous. He was trying to psych himself up for the fight, trying to convince himself he could win. He wanted to win; for Josie’s gift to him, for George, for Annie, but he knew he was going to die. Even before the stake, well fed vampires were stronger than those who had given up blood. As his sire, Herrick also held a certain influence over Mitchell. The best he could hope for was to take the bastard with him when he died._

_The roof of the hospital was certainly an appropriate place for this. The crumbling concrete and strangely ornate architecture gave the area a certain fatalistic air. He paced as he waited, seeing Herrick’s entrance into the hospital and knowing that it would be soon. His sire had also dressed for the occasion, his love of pageantry on full display. Mitchell was surprised he hadn’t insisted on having this showdown in front of the whole nest for just that reason._

_As the minutes ticked on, Mitchell became more and more impatient. Surely Herrick should be there by now, he couldn’t have gotten lost in the hospital. He tensed, preparing himself for a fight when someone walks through the open door, only to straighten in confusion when it was Annie and not the other vampire who came onto the roof._

_“What’re you doing here? I told you – What’s wrong, Annie, what’s happened?”_

_"Herrick isn’t coming here.” Mitchell feels the bottom drop out of his stomach at Annie’s words. He has to stay calm though, keep up the facade of confidence. That’s his role in their little family._

_“Where the hell is he going?”_

_When Annie tells him that Herrick’s heading to the basement, his dread crystallizes into realization. That’s why George was so insistent on being the one to carry the message. He was trying to take Mitchell’s place, and it would destroy him. He had to stop his friend before he could make that mistake. Bolting down the stairs, he can barely stand the brief halt because of Nina’s questions. He cuts her off as quickly as he can, only focussed on getting to George as fast as possible. Once there, he does his best to talk George out of his decision._

_“Don’t you see? He wants to make you something bad like him – it’s all he can do.” It’s certainly what Herrick had done to him. He had taken everything good in Mitchell and twisted it, and it’s only now that he’s starting to reclaim himself. Despite his best intentions, the Irishman allows himself to be talked back out of the room. He’s never been able to resist both Annie and George asking something of him._

_Even Nina’s unexpected arrival doesn‘t disrupt what’s happening or dissuade Herrick’s grandstanding. “Mitchell was right. There’s no difference now between you and me. Your ridiculous naive morality, your last shred of humanity; you lose it tonight. I realize now that was my role. If I’m going to hell, I’m taking you with me.”_

_"Haven’t you worked it out? Humanity is about love and sacrifice. This doesn’t rob me of my humanity, it proves it.” Snarled out as the agony of the change overtook George, Mitchell knew those words would stick with him for a long time. They gave him hope for the future. He had been willing to sacrifice everything for his friends. Maybe he had more humanity left than he’d thought._

_The day after Herrick’s death, Mitchell woke up with a new resolution. He would make sure all of the vampires from the Bristol nest thought that he was the one to kill his sire, then leave. He would paint the target squarely on his own back to leave Annie and George safe. Neither of them needed him the same way anymore. Annie had found her door, and hopefully would be able to pass on soon. George had Nina now, and she was indifferent towards the vampire at best. She’d never understood the relationship he and George had, and now seemed to be putting the blame for everything supernatural squarely on him._

_A week later he was on a plane._

* * *

The day after he’d arrived in Auckland, Mitchell woke up from sleeping more than sixteen hours to a much more optimistic morning. He decided to get up and start exploring his new city, start scoping out job possibilities and interesting places. He’d been walking for over an hour when he stopped to grab some lunch at a pub and noticed they were hiring for a bartender.

He beckoned the bartender over, “hey, mate. I’ve noticed you’ve got a help wanted sign up?”

“Our other bartender just shot through. Something about the surf being better on the South Island.” The gruff balding man looked Mitchell up and down. “You interested in the job?”

“Definitely.”

“You ever worked a bar before?”

“Back in England, although it’s been awhile.” Had it ever been. His last bartending job had been in the fifties, although not much could have changed about it.

“Well, if you want it, the job is yours. We’ll give you a week, see if you work out. You’d be working Wednesday through Sunday. The job comes with a small apartment upstairs. I’ve got another place nearby.”

Mitchell couldn’t believe his luck. After only a day at a hostel, he was able to find a job working at a bar. Bartenders were safely anonymous. The small apartment above the bar was partially furnished already and had just enough space for what little he’d brought with him from Bristol. He didn’t have much for someone who’d been alive for over a century. The vampire hadn’t had the presence of mind to take anything with him when newly turned. Although he’d begun collecting mementoes in the decades following, he’d trashed most of them after his decision to go clean. They had felt too much like trophies.

George had offered to ship his remaining things once he’d gotten settled but Mitchell remained undecided. If he really wanted to make a clean break after Herrick... well, it might be best to make an entirely fresh start of it. He’d already noticed it was easier to control the bloodlust and cravings without the fear of his sire breathing down his neck. He’d noticed a vamp or two here in Auckland, but they seemed not to care what he did so long as he didn’t make a mess or bother them. Things were much more relaxed down here on the other side of the world.

When he wasn’t working in the bar, Mitchell was exploring the city he’d chosen to move to. The bright sun bothered his vampire eyesight, but at least sunglasses were a common accessory here, so he didn’t stand out. He’d also ditched his red plaid hat to find something more in line with Kiwi sensibilities. It wasn’t the first time he’d had to reinvent himself in order to blend in, but it was the first time it felt good.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to GreenSorceress for the help, and to everyone who left comments and kudos. It's great to see that people are enjoying this story. As always, constructive criticism is welcomed. I have never been to New Zealand, so if I got anything wrong please let me know.

“Actually, the last part is all I can think about. Which is why, the next girl I see, I’m going to make my cock her destiny.” Which is exactly when an elderly homeless woman pushes her cart past Anders and Ty. There’s a pause, before the two brothers turn to each other and laugh. Anders opens his mouth to add a qualifier, but instead he spots someone walking past and straightens, suddenly looking much happier.

“Oi, Mitchell! Over here!” The slightly inebriated blond stands up and waves with his whole body at the tall Irishman walking by. He can see the other startle that his name has been called and start looking around for the source, which only makes him wave harder. 

Mitchell’s face lights up with his beautiful smile when he sees who’s called him, and he walks over eagerly. “Anders, it’s good to see you again. I wasn’t sure if I would.” In his drunken state Anders almost goes to throw his arms around the Irishman in a hug, but at the last moment remembers that Ty is there. His brother is probably already suspicious that he greeted someone so happily, best not be uncharacteristically tactile. He’s not even sure why he’s so happy to see Mitchell again. They’d gotten on well during their flight, but Anders is rarely so pleased to see anyone.

“It’s good to see you too. This is my brother, Ty,” he makes the introduction quickly but doesn’t pause for them to say anything before continuing. “How are you getting on in Auckland so far? You should join us in our quest to get drunk.”

“Are you drunk already?” Mitchell asks with an affectionate smile. He’s wearing shades today, covering his warm hazel eyes except when he tilts his head down to look at Anders over the frames.

“Little bit.” The blond almost grabs for his hand but manages to halt himself in time. He’s got no idea why he wants to touch so badly. It’s then he notices the other is wearing fingerless gloves. Odd choice, but from the assortment of other clothes Mitchell is wearing, he’s got a quirky sense of style. There aren’t too many people Anders can think of that could pull off a shirt that shade of yellow.

“It’s nice to meet you Ty.” He nods to the other brunet before turning back to Anders. “A little early to be drinking yet, isn’t it? Or is this a Kiwi thing?”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Mitchell, was it? No, it’s not really a Kiwi thing, more of an Anders thing.” Ty probably means to sound more annoyed, but his affection for his impossible brother comes through anyways.

“Ah, good. I was worried I was going to be swarmed by drunken customers at the pub I’m working at.”

“You found a job already? This deserves a celebratory drink!”

“Thanks, Anders, but I’m not sure I want to go to a bar. I’m going to be spending enough time in one already.” 

“Fine, we’ll just have to go to my place then. I’ve got pu-lenty of booze there.” And Anders is also pleased by the opportunity to show Mitchell his apartment. He definitely likes the idea of getting to know him somewhere more private than a bar.

Ty groans at the idea of more walking. “But we were just at your place, Anders. Can’t we go somewhere closer?”

“Don’t be such a downer, Ty. We need to be hos-os-pitable and welcome Mitchell to Auckland. Onwards!” Anders lurches back to his feet with that declaration, but has to pause a moment to determine which way to go before setting off. He quickly strikes up a conversation with the tall brunet about his experiences thus far in the new country.

Even with Anders stumbling a bit under the influence, it’s a fairly quick walk and they reach his apartment about fifteen minutes later.

“I like the way you Aucklanders name your businesses. In Bristol you’d never run across a place called Rent-a-Dent for rental cars,” Mitchell says, talking about his explorations over the past few days. He walks right past where Anders has stopped, too caught up in his story to notice initially. He gets half a dozen steps away before realizing that the other two have halted. He pauses a moment before turning and smiling sheepishly at them.

“This your place then?”

“Yup. C’mon in and we’ll start the celebratory drinking.” He opens the door for the other two with a flourish.

Once inside, Mitchell can’t seem to help poking around the place. He lifts several of the random knickknacks Anders has out, and then gets distracted by the fish for a few moments. He also picks up Yggdrasil, but drops it again quickly. Anders sees him shake his hand in pain, but figures he just got a splinter or something. This distraction just serves to give the god a chance to pour their drinks. He chooses the strongest stuff he has, what he’d brought back from Norway. Anders likes the other man, sure, but he’s not going to warn him about how strong it is. He wants to see his reaction.

The two gods in the room raise their drinks in unison, long practiced at this particular family tradition. “Skål!”

“Sláinte mhaith!” is the rejoinder. Mitchell downs his drink quickly and barely flinches at the taste. Not quite the reaction Anders was hoping for. In a way though, he’s pleased to see the other man can hold his liquor. Perhaps he should have expected it, Irish stereotypes and all.

The toast had been just the beginning. Anders was quite set on his quest to get drunk, and determined to drag the other two along with him. It’s a good thing he keeps his liquor well stocked, because Mitchell turns out to have quite the tolerance. Ty can’t quite keep up with them, but he does seem to get less gloomy as they keep drinking. It might have more to do with the fact that Mitchell is rather entertaining however. The Irishman has a gift for storytelling, and the blond god finds himself captivated. Bragi responds to the rhythmic flow of words as well, closer to the surface than he usually is but content for once to remain silent and listen. The day is going well until Mike calls. Anders is content to ignore him again, but this time Ty decides to pick up.

“What? At the bar? Why? Fine...” Ty sighs heavily before hanging up again. “Mike demands our presence for a family thing. He says it’s incredibly important.”

“What? No! Why does that prick think he can order us around?”

“He said it has something to do with that thing Axl has to do.” 

Anders huffs a little in disgust. “Fine. But it better not take long.” He turns to Mitchell to add, “I’ll be as quick as possible.”

“Thanks for the drinks, Anders, but if you’ve got to go I should too. I’ve had fun though.”

“Nono, please stay. I just need to deal with my control freak of a brother, but I’ll be back soon.”

“You’re really all right with me staying in your apartment?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. Have some more drinks, turn on the TV or something.” He usually wouldn’t like leaving someone in his apartment like this, but that strange feeling of comfort around Mitchell hasn’t gone away. He should probably think about what that means at some point.

__________  
The meeting at the bar goes about as well as he expects. Mike isn’t pleased to see him, despite being the one who commanded his presence. His older brother should have learned his lesson about trusting goddesses already though, after the attempts to kill Axl and that terrible marriage to Eva. Not to mention their mother. Only a few months ago the goddesses were trying to keep Frigg and Odin apart forever, and now Mike goes and hands her to them? 

Alright, maybe he shouldn’t have suggested leaving Zeb to the giant. If he’d paused to think about it, he would have remembered how much the scrawny mortal means to his little brother. Anders isn’t really great at stopping to think before he speaks at the best of times though, much less when he’s drunk. It’s part of what gets him in so much trouble with his brothers. 

It’s a relief when they decide they don’t need him anyways. He’d really rather not face off with a giant. The blond has never tried to use Bragi on a mythological being before, and doesn’t want to find out face to face with a giant that it doesn’t work. He also had promised Mitchell he’d be back soon.

Anders and Ty had walked to the bar, despite Ty’s grumblings about walking more. They were both far too drunk to drive and Anders hated public transit. It’s on the walk home that he finally gets the chance to think about his reactions to Mitchell. It was weird, the way he wanted to be physically close to him. He’d taken the opportunity earlier to manoeuvre Ty into the chair so he could have the couch with him, and had gradually moved closer. Usually physical contact of a non-sexual nature made him uncomfortable. Hardly a surprise with his family history. It wasn’t only their mother that their father had lashed out at. With Mitchell though, getting close enough for their knees to touch felt comfortable. The other man hadn’t seemed to notice, although he had shifted slightly into the contact.

Then there was the way Bragi had reacted. He’s never felt the god in his mind react that strongly to anyone, no matter how good a storyteller they were. Anders has to admit that the Irish accent and rhythm Mitchell’s voice falls into is strangely mesmerizing, but there has to be more to it than that. Mitchell is just different somehow. Usually that would make him suspicious, but he likes that the Irishman is different. He really wants to get to know him better. And to fuck him at some point, because quirky sense of style or not, his clothes hug his body in all the right ways.

Anders drifts for the rest of the walk home, thinking of Mitchell’s body and what he wants to do with it. With him. When he gets back to his apartment he has to take a moment to think of something else to let his body calm down. Usually, he wouldn’t care, but this time the blond wants there to be the possibility of more than a one night stand. He doesn’t really think walking back in and showing Mitchell the evidence of his interest is going to help with that.

He’s surprised to find Mitchell watching his fish rather than the TV when he gets back up to his apartment. It’s something he does himself to calm down his racing thoughts rather than turning to alcohol, but he’s never seen anyone else share his interest. The other man hasn’t seemed to notice his return yet, so he watches him for a bit before deciding to tease.

“If you’re trying to have a staring contest with my fish, you’ve already won. They aren’t really great at eye contact.”

He’s expecting him to startle, but Mitchell just turns to him with a lopsided smile. “No, I just find them relaxing. I’m a little surprised you only have goldfish, I was expecting something...flashier.” His smile takes the potential sting out of the comment, and Anders is surprised to find himself chuckling.

“The first fish I ever had was a goldfish. I got him because no one else wanted him, but he wound up living way longer than anyone had expected. He was eight years old when he died.” He was glad he’d moved out by that point, he didn’t need his brothers mocking him for mourning his fish the same way they had when his guinea pig had died.

“Wow, I didn’t know goldfish could live that long. All the ones I’ve ever seen lasted about a week. I’ve never had a pet myself though. I grew up on a farm and, well, there wasn’t much of a point in getting attached.”

“Really? I grew up on a farm too, although we didn’t have any animals. Not much of a farm either, come to think of it. Probably just called it that because it was a big property in the middle of nowhere. We did have a barn though.”

Mitchell smiles at him again at that, and he feels a strange fluttering in his chest. The god hasn’t felt this way around anyone since his first crush in fourth form. He kind of likes it. He feels the need for something familiar though, so he pulls out another two beers and offers one to Mitchell. Besides, it had been his resolution to stay drunk all day, and Anders’ long walk to and from the bar had gone a long way to sobering him up again.

They wind up ordering pizza, and drinking and laughing until late into the night. The conversation flows easily, although Anders notices some odd hesitations in Mitchell’s answers. It doesn’t feel like he’s lying or anything, more like he’s straining to remember. It’s odd, Mitchell isn’t old enough that those memories should be hard to pull up. The beer keeps Anders relaxed though, and it’s easy to shrug it off as being a weird quirk.  
__________

Anders groans as he slowly wakes, registering the headache from drinking too much first before trying to stretch out. It’s only when that’s more difficult than it should be that he realizes what’s different from his usual hangovers. This time he’s still fully clothed, but tangled around another body. Another male body apparently, judging by the firm muscle pressing against him. He squints his eyes open, hoping that it’s just Axl having gotten pissed and decided to use him as a teddy bear again. 

The other person he’s on his...couch with is definitely not Axl however. The blond tenses in fear before suddenly relaxing upon realizing that it’s Mitchell he’s entangled with. For once he’s not overheated after waking up sharing a couch with someone. The other man is pleasantly cool in fact. Strange, but not really something Anders wants to question before coffee.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to GreenSorceress for looking this over, and datsunblue for helping with information about Auckland, and the pub where Mitchell found a job. Thank you to everyone who's left comments and kudos, they really help keep me motivated to write. As always, constructive criticism is welcomed. Enjoy!

Mitchell slowly surfaces from sleep to find himself wrapped around a smaller warm body. He takes a moment to revel in the warmth he so rarely feels as a vampire, tucking his face into the hair of the man in front of him. It’s the new but familiar scent, as well as the lack of urge to feed that tells him the identity of the man he’s sharing the couch with. It’s easier to control the bloodlust now, but it’s still pleasant to not have to worry. It’s kind of like being with George or Annie, except he never quite felt this drawn to either of them. He still wants to learn what Anders is, why he’s different, but he’s willing to let Anders tell him in his own time. Mitchell himself is going to take some time before he’s ready to tell the blond what he is. Hopefully, once Anders is comfortable around him, he can tell the Kiwi without scaring him off.

The vampire can tell from the change in heartbeat and breathing that the other man is starting to wake up and feels him stretch out a bit. Anders tenses briefly, but Mitchell feels a flush of pleasure that he relaxes again almost immediately. Clearly the comfort he feels with the blond is at least somewhat mutual. Mitchell wants to stay where he is, but Anders starts to shift, so he moves his long limbs to allow Anders to sit up. Blinking sleep out of his eyes, the vampire gives the other a lazy smile.

“Morning. How’s the head? You got quite pissed last night.”

“Ugh. Ask me when I’ve had my coffee,” Anders groans, rubbing his hands over his face.

“Want me to make the coffee or dig you out some Panadol?” Mitchell receives a brilliant smile for his suggestion.

“That would be fantastic. Coffee is in the right cupboard above the sink.”

Mitchell heaves himself off the grey couch and makes some effort to straighten his rumpled clothes as he shuffles into the kitchen area. He has to rummage through the cupboards to find the coffee, it’s not quite where Anders had said it would be. He has a feeling Anders doesn’t use his kitchen very often. As he puts the coffee on to brew, the brunet steals the occasional look at the blond slumped on the couch. He was attractive enough when his charcoal suit and white oxford were crisp, but he feels so much more...tangible this way. More like something Mitchell can have, and he wishes he had been the one to rumple Anders. It’s this thought that prompts him to walk over and bury his long fingers in the blond waves. He begins massaging gently and feels Anders melt into the couch.

The blond sighs contentedly. “That feels so good. I should keep you around just for this.”

Mitchell can’t help but chuckle. “I hope not only for this,” he teases.

“Mmm, I’ll have to think about that.” The vampire snorts in response and they lapse into a comfortable silence. He can feel Anders relaxing further and further and it gets to the point that he’s afraid the Kiwi will melt into the couch. The atmosphere is only disrupted by the beep to announce the coffee is done. It’s a lovely late morning, the scent of coffee permeating the air as sunlight gently filters through the thin curtains. Both men can appreciate this small moment out of time.

Anders lets out a low groan when Mitchell withdraws his hands to go make the coffee. “Nooo, don’t stop.”

“I’ll go back to it once I fetch you coffee. How do you take it?”

“Black, please.”

The vampire manages to find two clean mugs in the cupboards and dumps sugar into his own. On Nina’s suggestion, he’s been eating more sugar and carbs, and finds it helps with the cravings. And it’s not like he has to watch his weight.

After he hands Anders his coffee, Mitchell buries his fingers back in his hair. Scratching his nails lightly across the blond’s scalp, he enjoys the silky texture of the strands, although he could do without the slight lingering stickiness of the gel. Anders is almost purring under his hands, and Mitchell feels a hot spike of arousal shoot down his spine. It’s the first time in a long time that he’s felt pure lust, no bloodlust involved. Maybe with this man he has a chance to separate sex from the feeding and violence he’s used to.

They fall into an easy conversation about nothing in particular until Anders picks up his phone to check it and Mitchell notices the time. He’s due at work in about two hours and still has to get back, eat something, and shower. His vampire metabolism means he’s not got as bad a hangover as the Kiwi, but he’s still pretty rough.

“I’m sorry, Anders, but I’ve got to head to the pub. My shift starts at 3.”

“Call in sick. Stay here and keep doing that thing with your fingers.”

“As much as I’d like to, I only started this job a few days ago. I really can’t afford to skive off already.”

“If you must,” Anders concedes with poor grace. “Did you want to use my shower first?”

“Thanks for the offer, but I’ve got an apartment above the pub. I can shower and change there.” The Irishman grabs his leather jacket from where it’s slung over the back of the chair; and on impulse leans forwards and brushes a feather light kiss across Anders’ cheek. “See you.” With that he slips out the door before the other has a chance to react. His walk back to ‘The Dog’s Bollix’ passes quickly due to the feeling of lightness pervading his body. Mitchell is starting to feel like moving to New Zealand is the best decision he’s ever made.

* * *

Anders sits in a daze for he’s not sure how long after Mitchell leaves. He can’t remember the last time building a relationship with someone was so easy or pleasant. Even when he’s using Bragi, he has to be on his game at all times. Every other relationship he has is fraught with suspicion and expectations. Even Ty and Dawn expect him to be a dick or have a hidden agenda. Mitchell is the only one who hasn’t put any expectations on him, who isn’t demanding anything from him. To be honest, it’s not something Anders is sure how to deal with. He finds he likes it though, and brushes his fingers across where his cheek is still tingling from the quick kiss before Mitchell left. He’s already trying to figure out when he can see the brunet again.

It’s then Anders realizes that once again, he completely forgot to get his phone number. At least this time he knows where Mitchell works. Where he lives too, apparently. While part of Anders wants to go find the Irishman immediately, his more practical side insists that he needs to go in to the office today. The last day and a half had been for wallowing, he has work to do. He actually is good at PR when his family isn’t around fucking everything up. Anders might have to suck up his pride and make a few personal visits to the clients unhappy with him after Norway, but he should be able to build his business back. He’d started from nothing after all.

When he gets in to j:pr, Dawn is there already and working as diligently as usual. Anders really should do something nice for her soon. A raise as soon as he can afford it for sure. Maybe a vacation or a promotion. She’s practically a partner as it is, he’s just afraid that if she goes away or gets promoted, she’ll leave. That if she gets away she won’t want to come back, or will find a job at a different company to get away from him. If she’s just a secretary on paper that’s what she’d be hired to do. Dawn would never settle for that. If he gave her a promotion...

She would make a fantastic manager. She’s so practical and efficient and organized. That’s actually why they work so well together: he has the charm and creativity, and she handles the logistics and scheduling. Anders isn’t sure what would happen to j:pr if Dawn ever decided to find another job. He could talk her out of it with Bragi; but if she’s ever serious about quitting rather than just annoyed with him, he knows he won’t even try.

Dawn looks up as he walks into the office and he’s sure she’s going to chew him out for leaving yesterday and coming in late today, but she just sighs and gets back to work. Anders gives her a smile that actually reaches his eyes to crinkle the corners and sits down at his desk.

“So what’s on the agenda for today, Dawnsie?”

“Well, we’ve got...” They settle back into their usual office rhythm effortlessly. It’s comforting that despite how much has changed since Axl turned 21, this can still be the same. If his mind occasionally strays off work to a certain curly haired Irishman, Anders thinks he can be forgiven. He’d been almost uncomfortably aroused the entire time the brunet’s fingers were buried in his hair, but too relaxed to do anything about it. He was also enjoying the wait; that neither of them had said anything out loud yet, but the god was fairly sure they both wanted the same thing.

In some ways it reminded him of his flirtations with Michele, although much more laid back. He hoped this thing with Mitchell didn’t end as badly as that had. At least Mitchell wasn’t involved in this whole god mess with the quest. So far as Anders knew anyways... although that might explain some of the Irishman’s differences. Anders didn’t think he was a vessel though, Mitchell didn’t feel like any god he’d ever met.

Anders actually made good progress with contacting former clients that afternoon. He was feeling optimistic about their chances. The god was having a very good day, and it made him grin buoyantly at Dawn when they were closing up the office at the end of the day.

“What’s with that grin? Or do I even want to know?”

“You wound me, Dawn. I can’t just be having a good day?”

“You’re not going to describe your sexual exploits in details I really don’t want to hear?” she looks at him skeptically.

He has to laugh. “I really am just having a good day. I could describe my exploits for you if you miss hearing about them though,” he snarks back with a wink. Anders laughs again when her face screws up in distaste at the thought. He shouldn’t tease her so much, but her reactions are adorable.

“Pass.”

Anders finds himself grinning as he shuts down his laptop and tidies papers into their respective folders. His stack is filed away neatly and he drops the ones for Dawn on the corner of her desk with a flourish. He’s back at his desk to retrieve his jacket quickly, shrugging it on and settling it in place with a quick shrug and a flick of his cuffs.

“Do you have any plans for the evening?”

“Nothing special. Home, dinner, a cup of tea. If you have any plans, I probably don’t want to hear them. Have a good night, Anders.” Dawn stands and grabs her purse, shutting off the lights at her desk and moving gracefully to the door. She flicks off the main lights as he grabs his briefcase and follows her, then locks the door behind them.

“Good night, Dawn,” he calls as they go their separate ways for the night. She may not want to hear his plans, but Anders knows exactly what he’s going to do. The last thing he’d done before closing was to look up the pub Mitchell worked at. Anders just hoped that showing up wouldn’t be considered stalkerish. He didn’t really have a whole lot of experience with the whole ‘dating’ thing. It was entirely plausible that he wanted to go to a pub and just happened to wind up at the one Mitchell worked at, right? Hopefully the fact that the Irishman had mentioned the name meant he wouldn’t mind. Anders hoped so, he wasn’t sure if he could handle Mitchell being the newest person to push him away.

It’s only a little bit of a hike away but he doesn’t feel like walking, and since Anders really shouldn’t drink again after last night, he elects to drive. He manages to find a parking spot reasonably close by and surveys the place before going in. It brings Mike’s bar to mind more than anywhere the blond would usually frequent. It’s more cozy than trendy.  He can appreciate the humour in the name though.

He feels his nerves surge back, but it’s all dispelled when he walks in and Mitchell lights up as soon as he spots the blond. Anders feels a little foolish for doubting the other man after his reception yesterday, but he’s really not used to anyone being unequivocally happy to see him. The pub is quiet this Wednesday night and Mitchell only has a few customers to worry about. The god hopes that means he can get to know Mitchell better and maybe get a little farther than a chaste kiss on the cheek. He’s enjoying taking things slowly but at the same time he’s not been anything close to _chaste_ in years. With the way he’s been getting aroused around the tall Irishman, he would rather move to fucking sooner rather than later.


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all of you who read and commented, I'm really happy to see that people are still enjoying this fic. Also a big thanks to GreenSorceress and datsunblue again for taking the time to look over my work and point out problems. As always, comments and criticism are welcomed.

Mitchell is both startled and pleased to see Anders turn up at _The Dog’s Bollix_ that evening. The blond looks much better off than he had that morning, back to being professionally dressed in his grey suit and dark olive shirt. His hair is neatly styled and Mitchell’s fingers just itch to muss it up again. To be honest, the vampire was surprised to see Anders in the pub. It didn’t seem like his kind of place.

“Anders! Welcome! What can I get you?”

“What’s good? It’s been awhile since I was at a pub like this.” Mitchell can believe that, and fortunately he has a ready answer. The owner had him sample most of the foods and beers on tap so he could give recommendations.

“Have any allergies mate?”

“No, why?” Anders looks quizzical.

“Trust me to order for you?”

“Sure, why not?” The blond grins at Mitchell as he goes to tell the cook his order, then returns to pull Anders a pint of the craft brew he’d particularly liked. Mitchell figures it’s a safe bet, as he had enjoyed the beer Anders provided at his apartment.

“So what brings you here tonight?” Anders is about to answer when Mitchell is called away by another customer. And then another. Mitchell begins to get frustrated when customers who have been quiet all evening suddenly all seem to need his attention at once. He would much rather be talking to the intriguing blond, but it seems like the entire pub is conspiring to keep him away. He finally gets a chance to return to Anders when the food he’d ordered is ready.

“Here you are, best steak and Guiness pie this side of Ireland,” Mitchell declares as he sets the dish down with a flourish. “But be careful, it’s fresh out of the oven.”

“Best, ay? And how many of these pies have you eaten on ‘this side of Ireland’?” Anders teases, dimples fully visible.

“Ah well, I must admit it’s not that many. But it really is good.”

Anders cracks the pie open to let it cool down some and a deliciously savoury scent drifts out with the steam.

“If this tastes half as good as it smells, it seems I’m going to have to trust your taste in food and beer.” If Mitchells could still blush, a pleased flush would be visible in his cheeks. He’s happy that he’d chosen well for Anders. It would have been rather embarrassing to ask the other man to trust him, then get it all wrong.

Mitchell watches as Anders takes a cautious bite before his eyes widen and he stuffs a whole forkful into his mouth. He’s slightly too dignified for his cheeks to puff out, but he still presents a rather adorable picture.

Before he can comment, Mitchell is called away again as more people come in for drinks and the occasional bite. He manages to grab snatches of conversation with Anders, but remains quite busy for the next few hours. He’s actually rather surprised the other hasn’t left yet. This can’t be all that interesting for him. Still, when the pub quiets down again, the blond is still in his place at the bar. He’s seen Anders doing something on his phone while he’s been running orders, so at least he hasn’t been totally unoccupied.  Mitchell pauses for a moment to appreciate how well Anders fills out that suit before walking over.

“Hey, thanks for waiting. I’m just about to start closing, but you’re welcome to stay.”

Anders looks up with a wicked grin. “Of course I’m going to stay, I still owe you that answer as to what brought me here tonight.” And for the time being, that’s all he’ll say about it. No matter how Mitchell tries to draw him out he just grins and refuses to answer. The vampire is so curious about what the answer is going to be that he finds himself almost hustling the remaining customers out the door and cleaning up much faster than he should. Finally, he’s finished everything for the night and parks himself in front of Anders expectantly.

“So? Why _did_ you come here tonight?”

“So I could do _this_.” Mitchell opens his mouth to ask what ‘this’ is, but is cut off before he starts when a firm hand wraps itself in the front of his shirt and drags him down onto plush lips. The kiss is somewhat messy and uncoordinated at first, between Mitchell’s surprise and the awkwardness of being dragged down, and Anders goes to pull away. Mitchell refuses to let him, bringing his arms up around the warm body in front of him, and the kiss softens into something much sweeter. He feels Anders’ fingers tangle into his curls and tightens his arms ever so slightly in response. When they finally break the kiss, Anders is breathing heavily and there’s a soft look in his blue eyes.

“I’ve wanted to do that for awhile,” Anders admits almost shyly. “After you left this morning, I thought you might want it too.”

Mitchell’s mind is racing. He wants everything about this, wants to kiss Anders and more, but at the same time he’s afraid. He’s not ready yet to tell Anders that he’s a vampire, but he doesn’t want to get into a true relationship with the blond not knowing what he is. The one and only time he’d tried something like that...well, it didn’t end well. He also doesn’t want to lie to Anders, even by omission. The other man should know the risks of getting involved with Mitchell, even if they are lessened because he doesn’t smell edible.

His decision is made as he looks down slightly into blue eyes and realizes he doesn’t want to see disappointment in them. Mitchell tucks his face into the crook of the other’s neck as he answers. “Oh, I definitely am interested. But do you mind if we take it slow? I’m enjoying the chance to get to know you like this. My last few relationships have ended badly, and I think it was because we rushed into things."

The vampire doesn’t even have to lie to be able to say this. They weren’t really relationships per se, but Lauren was far from the only attempt at a one night stand to end badly. Blood and violence were so deeply tied to the act of sex for the vampire that if he let his control slip for even a brief moment, it was likely to end with a body on the bed. The only time he was able to separate them was with Josie, and he’d come to believe that it was because of how much he cared for her. That emotion gave him just enough of a hesitation before going to feed to regain control. Mitchell believed it could be the same way with Anders.

“I won’t say I’m not slightly disappointed. I was looking forward to seeing what’s under those ridiculously fitted jeans. But at the same time, it might be nice to take things slow. I’ve never really had a chance for that before.” Mitchell still has his face buried in Anders neck, but he can hear the hitch in his voice as he admits to that, and he feels his heart break a little for the other man. From the bits and pieces Anders has let slip over their conversations he’s gathered that the Kiwi feels rather isolated. Mitchell isn’t overly impressed with what he’s heard of his family, and it sounds like Anders has only had a string of meaningless one night stands to count as ‘relationships’. Mitchell might have a habit of wearing his heart on his sleeve, but that could be just what Anders needs.

“You know, just because we’re taking it slow, doesn’t mean we can’t go snog on my couch for awhile,” he slyly suggests. From the increased hardness pressing against his hip, Anders liked that idea quite a lot. Mitchell is almost tempted to scoop the other man up to carry him into his flat, but he’s not confident he would manage that without incident.

Instead, he unwinds his arms from around Anders and grabs his hand to tug him upstairs. Anders follows with a laugh and they stumble up the narrow stairway together. Mitchell is almost overcome by a moment of bashfulness at the top, remembering how classy Anders’ apartment is compared to his tiny flat above the pub, with only second-hand furniture to fill the space. Anders doesn’t seem to care, pushing him from behind and manoeuvring Mitchell to lie down on the worn couch before pinning him to it.

“Mmm, you look so good like this,” he says before ducking down to kiss the brunet again. This time it’s Mitchell’s turn to tangle his fingers into Anders’ hair. He can feel the blond melt against him when he lightly scratches across the scalp in much the same way he had that morning. He can tell the other man has a lot of experience kissing, but at the same time it feels practiced and almost clinical. Rather than let that continue, Mitchell uses his hold to control the kiss; to make it slower, and more tender. He takes his time exploring the inside of Anders’ mouth and feels him start to respond and imitate the motions. Anders is quick to adapt and takes control back for a time. Finally he pulls away to breathe and just lies on top of Mitchell while they both enjoy the contact. One of Mitchell’s hands wander down the other’s back, finally finding its way under Anders’ jacket to pull up his shirt so he can find skin. He traces along the soft skin above Anders’ belt and feels him shudder at the gentle touch.

Anders shifts and begins to rut slowly against the firm body pinned under him. It’s Mitchell’s turn to shake as he reflexively thrusts back into the pleasing sensation. Anders takes the opportunity while Mitchell is arched to sneak a hand under him and up the back of his shirt. The brunet can feel Anders’ hand tracing the line of his spine. They lie there in silence for quite some time, exploring each other’s bodies gently and exchanging lazy kisses. Even though he’s aroused, Mitchell feels no need to rush towards completion. He’s quite content to lie there in this pleasurable haze and revel in the feeling. From the way Anders seems content not to take control and speed things up, he agrees.

After awhile, they slow down even further until they’re mostly just cuddling. Mitchell can hear Anders’ breathing slowing, and it seems that he’s going to fall asleep right where he is. The vampire doesn’t object, but, “Anders, I would be really happy for you to stay overnight if you wanted to. But don’t you have to work tomorrow?”

The blond lying on Mitchell almost lurches when he speaks. It seems Anders was closer to sleep than he’d thought. “Mmm, what time is it? Aww, shit. I should go, Dawn would be pissed if I didn’t show tomorrow after today went so well.” Anders reluctantly pulls himself off the brunet still lying on the couch and tries to straighten his rumpled suit, without much success. Mitchell sees him out the door, exchanging a few more kisses on the way. They promise to see each other soon. Anders remembers to ask for Mitchell’s number this time, but the vampire has to confess that he hasn’t yet had a chance to set up a phone in New Zealand. Mitchell gets the other’s number anyways, reasoning that he can always use the pub phone for a quick contact.

After Anders leaves, Mitchell finds himself pulling out the laptop George had thrust on him before he left Bristol.

_“I know we can’t see you on camera, but I still expect you to call us on Skype regularly,”_ he’d said, and he was right. Just because Mitchell was starting a new life doesn’t mean he could forget his old friends. He checked the clock. Perfect, it was just after 2am in New Zealand. George should still be home to take his call since it was around 3pm back in Bristol. Hopefully Nina wasn’t home.

It took him around five minutes to set up the laptop and remember how to connect to Skype. He still occasionally had trouble with the way technology had changed since he was a child, but did his best to adapt to the modern world. He did better than many vampires he knew, mostly because he actually wanted to be part of the human world rather than just a predator in the shadows.

The call rings for a solid minute or two before George picks up, and Mitchell raises an eyebrow at how dishevelled his friend appears. His hair is sticking up all over, his blue eyes are bleary, and Mitchell is fairly sure his shirt is on backwards.

“Have a good night, mate?” he asks, only to see George shriek and fall backwards in surprise. “George? What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“A blank screen is talking to me, that’s what’s happened. Oh no, am I in contact with another ghost? What should I do? Annie, help, there’s a ghost talking to me through Skype! Annie?” George calls for the resident ghost pitifully. Mitchell wants to interrupt, but at first he’s laughing too hard.

Finally he catches his breath and interjects, “George you twat, it’s Mitchell. Vampires don’t register on camera, remember?”

“Mitchell?” George looks confused at first. Mitchell would say he’s not quite awake yet, but he’s never known George to sleep this late. “Mitchell! It’s about bloody time you called! We were starting to worry that you hadn’t gotten there properly or something.”

The vampire has to laugh at his friend’s worry. He’s over a hundred years old, but George is still afraid he can’t look after himself for two weeks. “I’m sorry George. It’s been a bit crazy getting settled down here. I got a job almost right away, so I’ve been doing training for that. And what have you been up to? You never sleep this late.”

The werewolf flushes crimson immediately. “I-it-it’s nothing. N-n-othing at all. We’ve just had some late n-nights getting Nina moved in and all.”

“Ooh, Nina’s moved in? So that’s why you looked so rumpled when you picked up the call.” Mitchell can’t resist teasing his friend. It’s just too easy, and it’s nice to see George happy with someone. Even if that someone doesn’t particularly like Mitchell himself. It’s much easier to be supportive when he doesn’t have to deal with Nina’s disapproval in person.

Mitchell spends almost an hour catching up with George. He’s disappointed not to be able to talk to Annie, who had apparently just left on a girl’s night with Nina, but at the same time it’s good to be able to speak to George on his own. He’s still not sure what motivated him to stick his neck out for one lost werewolf but it made him a friend for life. They talk about how Mitchell likes Auckland so far, what’s new at the hospital since Mitchell left, and the Real Hustle. The vampire is trying to find a way to watch it in New Zealand, but hasn’t had much time to look yet. George periodically gushes about Nina and Mitchell wonders if it’s come out that he scratched her that night. He wishes her all the luck in getting used to the change, but knows his advice would be unwelcome. It’s because of that he hasn’t told George himself: this is something they need to work out for themselves. He knows Annie will look after them.

“You take care of yourself mate. Moving here was a good choice for me, but that doesn’t mean I won’t miss you. And I have to thank you for what you did for me with Herrick. It’s easier to control the bloodlust now that he’s dead, especially since I don’t have to keep looking over my shoulder for him.”

“You too, Mitchell. I miss you already, the house feels different without you around. I took care of Herrick for all of us, but I’m glad to hear you’re doing better. Did you want me to ship your stuff now that you have an address?”

“No, could you hold on to it for me for now?”

“Of course. I think there’s a plaid shirt Annie wouldn’t want to give up in any case. She’s figured out how to wear it over her other clothes. It looks terrible, but she won’t take it off.”

Mitchell smiles sadly when he hears that. “Tell her I miss her too, and I’ll try to call again soon. And say ‘hi’ to Nina for me.”

“Will do, mate. Annie’s going to be pissed when she finds out she missed your call. I hope she doesn’t go poltergeist in the kitchen again.” George chuckles suddenly, “it’s still weird this, talking to a blank screen. I guess I’ll get used to it in time. Night Mitchell.”

“Afternoon, George.” They both laugh at the difference in times, then Mitchell disconnects the call. He’s not quite sure why he didn’t mention Anders to George. His friend would be happy for him. But he feels like it’s not time yet, no matter how much he has already come to care for the other man.

* * *

Anders leaves the tiny apartment above the pub almost buzzing with pleasurable excitement. Alright, so he hadn’t gotten as far with Mitchell as he may have wanted, but he had something better. Finally, there was someone in his life who wanted him for who he was and not just what he could do for them. And Anders had never once used Bragi on Mitchell. Not to get him to be kind on the plane, not so Mitchell would be happy to see him again, not to kiss him that morning, and not to suggest a relationship. It’s something he’s never had before, and he’s determined to hold on to it. No matter what his fucked up family has to say about it.

It’s late when he gets back to his apartment, but the first thing he does is wander towards the shower, shedding clothes along the way. In his mind, it’s Mitchell’s clever fingers peeling off his jacket before going to work on the buttons of his shirt. He’s in the bathroom by the time he gets that off, and he closes his eyes while undoing his belt and fly, imagining Mitchell’s seductive smile as he slides his trousers carefully off his hips. Once in the shower, he wraps his hand around his cock, stroking it slowly as he pictures Mitchell’s long, lean body crowding up behind him. The other’s hand taking over and controlling the speed, trying different grips to see what Anders likes best. He moans when his mental image slides to his knees in front of the god, his wicked hazel eyes looking up at Anders before he opens his mouth and swallows Anders down to the root. It only takes a few more strokes to finish the blond at that point, he’s been hard and wanting for hours, and he comes harder than he has for a long time.

Feeling wrung out and limp, Anders leans against the shower wall until his legs stop feeling so wobbly. If it was that good in just his imagination, he can’t wait for the real thing. At the same time though, he wants to respect Mitchell’s request that they take it slow. The anticipation that’s building certainly seems to be worth it.

When he gets his strength back, he quickly washes and towels off. Anders collapses into bed, not even bothering to pull on a sleep shirt, and he’s out cold almost immediately. He wishes he could say that he had fantastic dreams about Mitchell, but if he did dream, he doesn’t remember.

Anders wakes up on time the next day feeling well rested despite having a late night. He’s still in a fantastic mood from the night before, and even goes out of his way to grab coffee and pastries for himself and Dawn that morning while heading to the office. The shocked look on Dawn’s face when he hands her a latte and it’s actually what she likes is priceless. At the same time though, he resolves to be visibly nicer to her, she shouldn’t look that shocked when he thinks of her.

“Anders? You’re on time!” Or maybe he should just show up to his own business more often. It’s a relief though that it wasn’t the coffee order that had her so startled. He thought Dawn was one of the people who could tell when he was being nice in his own special way, and apparently he was right.

They settle in to work at their own desks quickly, making calls and trying to contact potential new clients. Anders plans to spend at least part of the next day going to some of their former clients’ offices, trying to win them back in person. As the day wears on, he notices Dawn sneaking more and more glances that attempt to be furtive, but are mostly just obvious. At first he’s amused by her obvious lack of skill at subterfuge, but it gets to the point where he just has to ask what’s going on.

“Have I got something weird on my face?”

“What? No, of course not.”

“Then why do you keep staring at me? Normally I would say it was because you were interested in sex, but that’s obviously not the case here.”

“No! I mean yes!” she flushes a deep red in embarrassment and he decides to let her off the hook.

“C’mon Dawn, you can tell me. Why do you keep looking at me?”

She looks down at her desk and fidgets for a moment before responding. “Umm, well... It’s just I’ve never seen you this happy before, and certainly not for a few days in a row. I was just curious about it,” is her eventual answer. She glances at him quickly before looking back down, and the next words come out all in a rush, “andyoulookreallygoodsmilinglikethat.”

It takes Anders a moment to process what she’s just said, and he actually starts to blush a little himself but he can’t hold back his smile. He knows that he’s been happy because of Mitchell, his hopes are high right now that their relationship will last. He’s also rather pleased to find out that Dawn likes his smile. She was one of the few mortal women he knew that he couldn’t charm easily and he likes that about her, but it was nice to know she wasn’t completely immune. Anders pauses a moment, then gets up from his desk and beckons Dawn to join him on the couch. If he really considers her a friend, he might as well tell her.

“Can you keep a secret, Dawn? You can’t tell anyone about this yet, not even my brothers.”

“Of course, Anders. You know you can trust me.”

“I know I can,” he nods and gives her a quick grin. “I met someone on the plane back from Norway and we had a really solid connection, but I wasn’t sure I’d ever see him again. But a few days ago we ran into each other at the park and things went really well. I really like him.”

Dawn pauses for a moment before impulsively throwing her arms around him. Anders can’t help tensing reflexively, but he does trust her, so he relaxes into the hug and returns it.

“Anders, I’m so happy for you. I hope things work out. I was actually getting worried because in spite of all your conquests, I could tell that you were still lonely. Is the reason you don’t want your family to know because you’re interested in a ‘him’?”

He tenses again, but Dawn’s next words sooth him, “oh stop it. I figured out years ago that you were into both, it’s not a big deal. That’s why I never really took you seriously when you told me Ty was gay.”

“Really? Please tell him that sometime, he’s still pissed about that.”

She laughs softly. “I will. You’ll have to bring this guy of yours by sometime, I’d like to meet him.”

He nods in agreement, a tad startled that she’d been so supportive. If he didn’t have such rigid control over his emotions, he would probably be tearing up a little at her unconditional acceptance.

They remain on the couch for a little while longer before going back to work. “Dawn? Thanks.”


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey All! Sorry for the longer than usual wait for this, but I was at a convention last weekend. I will be posting the next chapter in the next day or two as an apology, and to keep up with my usual schedule of about a chapter a week. Thank you to everyone who left a comment or kudos, it's really motivating to know that people are reading and enjoying this! As always, I welcome suggestions or criticism. A big thanks to GreenSorceress and datsunblue for looking this over for mistakes. If there are any left, it's totally my fault.

Anders smiles as he strolls into work on time for the second time in so many days. He’s been having a very good week: he’s starting to rebuild his company since his mother destroyed it, his family hasn’t called to shout at him for a few days, and he’s got Mitchell. This time when he drops a latte and scone on Dawn’s desk she smiles in response and thanks him. Their banter back and forth this morning as they solidify ideas for client campaigns is much less sharp than it has been over the past months. Anders is making an effort to be less crass and sarcastic, and Dawn seems to be happy he’s back to working like he used to. The morning passes quickly and when lunch rolls around he gets the idea to go visit Mitchell.

“I’m off for lunch, Dawn. Then I’m going to visit some of those clients I lost to see if I can redeem my reputation at all. If you finish what you’re working on, feel free to take the rest of the day.”

“Alright, Anders. Have a good day. I’ll call you if anything important comes up while you’re out.”

“Cheers Dawn, you’re the best.” He tosses her a casual salute on his way out the door.

Even though he’s going to a pub, Anders sort of feels like he should call Mitchell before just showing up. On impulse he decides on a quick detour to buy his...boyfriend? a phone. He would usually go for the most expensive model just to show off, but Mitchell would probably want something simpler. And now he’ll actually have a way to contact him rather than just showing up at the pub and hoping he’d be there.

When he does get to the pub, he feels his good mood deflate immediately when he doesn’t see Mitchell behind the bar. Rather than give up and leave he asks the current bartender if Mitchell is working.

“Nah mate, he doesn’t start until closer to dinner.” Seeing Anders disappointment, he continues, “but if you’re a friend of his, go on up. I’m pretty sure he’s still in the flat.” Anders can’t help but grin, and almost darts up the stairs to knock on Mitchell’s door.

When the Irishman opens it up, he looks startled then pleased to see Anders on his doorstep. He immediately leans in to give the blond a short, sweet kiss. “So what brings you to my door today?” he murmurs, lips just brushing against Anders’. The touch sends a frisson of desire up his spine. Despite agreeing with the reasoning, he feels like he’s going to curse Mitchell’s request to take it slow fairly often.

“Wanted to see you again, and needed to eat lunch.”

“And you decided to multi-task,” Mitchell says with a warm laugh.

“What? No, I remembered you worked in a pub. I wanted to mooch off your employee discount,” Anders responds with a mischievous grin.

Mitchell arches an eyebrow at the blond. “Oh, really? Come in here for a second first.”

Anders takes a short step inside, wondering why Mitchell wants him in the flat if they’re going to eat, and gets his answer when the door is pulled shut behind him and he’s pinned to the hard surface. Mitchell’s firm body presses against him and he once again notes the unusually low temperature before all other thoughts are swept away in a passionate kiss. He loses time in the feeling and only comes back to himself when he has to pull away to breathe. As he shifts, he hears the rustle of the bag and is reminded of the gift he’d gotten earlier.

He goes to pull it out of the bag, then hesitates. Is it intrusive or invasive to give him this? Anders almost changes his mind, but Mitchell notices the movement.

“Hey, what’s in the bag? Is it something for your work?”

“Uh, no, actually. It’s something for you,” he tentatively pulls the phone out of the bag. “You mentioned that you hadn’t had a chance to set up a cell here yet. I thought I’d give you a hand.”

Mitchell grins widely as he pulls out the phone. Anders can see him start playing around with all the functions and heaves an internal sigh of relief. The blond is happy to see his exuberant grin. “It’s a pay as you go phone set up in your name. I covered the first month, but feel free to change the plan after that. I didn’t know if you’d want a long distance plan to call back to Bristol or not...” he can tell he’s babbling and has to make an effort to stop talking.

“Thank you so much, Anders,” Mitchell says, looking up into his eyes. “No one’s ever given me a gift like this before.” The brunet tucks the phone away in his pocket before wrapping Anders into a tight hug. Anders relaxes into his arms and allows the feeling of intimacy to wash over him. Mitchell smells like a pleasant mix of clean laundry, beer, leather, and musk.   The peaceful moment is only interrupted when Anders’ stomach makes a loud complaint.

Mitchell pulls back with a laugh, “guess that means I’d better feed you. C’mon downstairs.”

* * *

Anders is just about to take a bite of the burger Mitchell convinced him to order for lunch when his phone rings. He would ignore it, but he can see it’s Dawn ringing from the office. She wouldn’t call if it wasn’t important.

“Has something happened Dawn? You didn’t burn the office down, did you?” He’s trying to be less sarcastic to her, but this burger smelled so good and she had interrupted.

“I have Natalie Mather here.” She says it like the name should mean something to him, but he has no idea who she’s talking about and says so. “From Oslo,” a pause, “the Australasian Marketing manager for Lindus?” she continues when he still doesn’t respond.

“Oh god, is that that bloody horrible furniture I kept banging my shins on all over Euro?” He can see Mitchell smirking and nodding in agreement from the corner of his eye. Apparently Anders isn’t the only one who isn’t a fan of the company.

“Yes,” is Dawn’s tight reply, and suddenly he realizes that this Natalie must be within earshot, or else Dawn would be more willing to fire back at him for his comments.

“Alright, what does she want?” he responds with a suddenly more professional tone. He can hear Dawn’s tiny relieved sigh over the line.

“She has a business opportunity. I know you had those other meetings this afternoon, but can you get in here now?”

Anders has to sigh, looking mournfully at his untouched meal and the man he’d really wanted to spend more time kissing. “I’ll be there in about fifteen.” He’s not much liking this trying to be more responsible thing at the moment.

Mitchell in the mean time has correctly read his expression and grabbed a takeout container for the food. Anders lets him get the burger packed away before dragging him into a filthy kiss. Mitchell actually looks a little dazed as he pulls away. “Thanks for that. I have a potentially huge client waiting in my office, but I’ll call you later.”

Anders hurries back to the office and actually manages to make it in the fifteen minutes he’d promised. Unfortunately he’d dressed in more casual clothes for the morning, intending to go change before his afternoon meetings, but there’s not much he can do about that now. At least the polo and jeans he’s wearing are appropriately dark. He pauses to straighten his clothes and steel his posture before opening the door.

He’d thought he’d have to greet this mysterious Natalie right away, but the only person in the office is Dawn. He hopes he hasn’t left lunch with Mitchell for nothing and is relieved to hear that she’s only in the washroom. Anders is a little worried to hear that she’s the straightest woman in the world though. He really can’t remember meeting someone like that in Oslo.

He can see what Dawn means as soon as she walks in the door. His goes to greet her in the fashion he’d seen often in Europe, but he aborts the motion when he sees her stiffen. The rest of the meeting goes much the same way. For someone who’d sought his company out, she seems rather skeptical of his talents. Anders tries to draw her out with humour but the attempt falls flat, and their discussions are stilted and awkward. If this is what working with her was always like, he almost hopes the contract falls through, even if it would help j:pr immensely.  They plan to meet for dinner later that evening before the meeting ends.

Anders is relieved when Natalie walks out the door, not wasting a moment in shutting it behind her and turning to Dawn with a tight smile. “Well isn’t she just a fluffy little kitten of warmth.”

“You still have no idea where you met her, do you?” The statement is probably meant to be scornful, but he hears the warmth underlying it anyways.

He grins at her again, “to be fair, I killed many brain cells trying to stay warm in Norway.” Despite the fact that this seems a reasonable explanation, something is a little off. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s forgotten a woman’s name or gotten black out drunk, but he usually at least remembers faces. And then there’s the fact that he really can’t see someone as stiff as her ever being somewhere he’d have gotten that pissed. Ah well, it’s still a fantastic business opportunity, and he really can’t afford to pass those up just now. Anders asks Dawn to find out as much about the company as she can and book them in at a nice restaurant, then leaves the office to try to continue with his planned schedule for the afternoon.

A few of his former clients refuse to even let him in the door, but overall the afternoon goes decently. He manages to smooth things over with most of them, and actually manages to get a promise of contracts from two of them who are unhappy with their current PR companies. He’s once again in a good mood, especially since he’d been able to do much of it with his natural charm rather than his powers. He can feel Bragi bubbling at the back of his mind, pleased that he’d gotten to stretch his godly legs a little and proud of his vessel.

Sometimes that sense of approval from his god had been all that kept him going in the past. Despite the problems that being the vessel of Bragi in particular had caused him, he doesn’t want to give that up. It helps to remember that on the long nights when he has to drink himself to sleep in order to silence the thoughts rushing through his mind.

That high from Bragi fades a little when he gets to the restaurant to find Dawn fretting about presenting j:pr to Natalie. Apparently Lindus as a whole is just as stiff as this particular representative. There’s not a lot he can do about that though, so he just tells Dawn that they are going to be as friendly and professional over dinner as possible. Her enthusiasm for the furniture and research on the company should be an asset. Or they would be, if Natalie didn’t keep treating her like the hired help.

Anders is becoming less and less pleased with Natalie. For being a representative of a company who prides itself on service, she is remarkably poor at coming off as approachable or willing to work with others. Still, they could use this contract so he grits his teeth and smiles. Dawn gets the brush off so many times, Anders finally tells Natalie that Dawn has recently become a partner in the firm in order to get her to stop. He sees Dawn’s startled and pleased flush from the corner of his eye and decides to tell her later that he means it. Dinner goes a little more smoothly after that, but Anders is once again glad to see the back of Natalie.

He and Dawn sit quietly after she leaves for a time.

“New Partner?” Dawn hesitantly breaks the silence.

He smiles full and honest at her. “If you want it. We both know you do as much of the work as I do, this is just putting a name to it.”

“Of course I want it! Thank you Anders, I wasn’t expecting an opportunity like this.” She is well and truly beaming at him now, and the smile warms him and reassures him this was the correct decision.

“We’ll have to talk sometime next week then about a partnership agreement.“ Anders stands to take care of the bill, gesturing at their waiter. “Have a good weekend, Dawn. I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Good night, Anders.”

* * *

Mitchell feels frazzled and is quite pleased this night is almost over. It’s his first Friday working at The Dog’s Bollix, and he’s sure he would have drained someone by now if he was by himself. It wasn’t so much that he felt the urge to feed, it’s that frustration and killing usually go hand in hand for vampires. Fortunately for Mitchell and everyone around him, the owner of the place was on shift as well.

“You’re doing well for your first Friday night here,” Cooper comments on his way by with a full tray of pints.

“Is it always this mad?”

Cooper laughs, a deep belly chuckle. “Oh yeah mate. Sometimes it’s worse. Tomorrow night will be more of the same.” Mitchell has to resist the urge to thump his head on the convenient wooden beam nearby. He’ll get used to it soon enough, but right now this pace is brutal. Working at the hospital was long shifts but consistent work. Since he avoided shifts in the ER for obvious reasons, his day there had been pretty routine and predictable.

Half an hour later and the last pints have been delivered to the stragglers. Mitchell is grateful that the pub he wound up working in closes its doors at 1 am, rather than 5 am as some do. As he leans over to clean off a recently vacated table, the jingle of the bell above the door draws his ire. He hopes it’s not another sodden Kiwi demanding more beer. The vampire feels himself slide into hunting mode unconsciously, but abruptly comes out of it when he sees that the particular Kiwi who has just walked through the door is Anders. Instead of trying to eject him from the building, he gives the blond a tired smile. His presence reminds Mitchell of the gift he’d received earlier that day.

_After Anders left to see that big client, Mitchell had quickly eaten lunch and headed back into his flat. Flopping onto his sagging bed with a slight protest from the springs, he pulls the phone from the pocket where he’d shoved it earlier. The brunet can’t do anything but stare at it for a long moment, and contemplating what Anders meant with the gift. In all the time he’d lived with George and Annie, neither of them had given him a physical token. Not until he left and George shoved the laptop on him so he would stay in touch. He knew what_ that _meant. Before that, since he’d become a vampire, the gifts he’d received were people. As food, as entertainment, as playthings. What was he meant to take away from a phone as a gift? Was it like George and the laptop, a way to stay in contact?_

_A gift of something like a phone from Herrick would have been much more sinister. His sire would have used it to keep tabs on him and yet another way to remind him he couldn’t escape. Mitchell flips the phone open to see if that will give him more clues. Anders has programmed his own phone number in, as expected. But he’s also included numbers of useful places. When Mitchell digs a little further, he sees a notepad with some interesting destinations suggested as well as their addresses so he can use the map function. He feels warmth start to spread through him as he realizes Anders is playing a sort of tour guide for him, just like he promised on the plane. The thought put into the gesture feels so intimate and welcoming. Mitchell is not unaware of Anders’ somewhat abrasive manner but the moments like this allow his kinder side to show through._

Subconsciously Mitchell pats the phone in his jeans pocket as if to reassure himself it’s still there. Despite his pleasure at seeing the other man again, he can’t resist a little teasing. “If you’re here to mooch off my employee discount again, I’m sorry to disappoint but the kitchen’s closed.”

Anders raises an eyebrow. “Really? Then I guess it’s a good thing I’m here to see you.” Mitchell’s happy to see Anders again, especially since they were interrupted earlier. But at the same time he’s had a long day and he’s exhausted. The blond’s arrival gives him a brief burst of pleased energy but he’s already starting to flag again by the time he’s got the bar cleaned. Cooper takes one glance at him and waves him off.

“Go off to bed, mate, you look done in.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to leave the rest of the closing to you,” Mitchell protests. He wants nothing more than to fall into bed with his visitor but he also wants to keep this job.

“I’m sure. You’ve already taken care of most of it, and you did well for your first busy day. I’m glad I hired you on.” This earns the burly barkeep a brilliant but tired smile, and the brunet darts up the stairs towing Anders before Cooper can change his mind.

“Night then, boss.” He can hear Anders laughing quietly at his haste, but the other man follows willingly.

He moves into the flat on autopilot, toeing off his heavy boots at the door and peeling off his shirt while heading towards the bed. It’s only when he hears Anders’ quick inhalation that he processes what he’s just done. It’s not the atmosphere he’d meant to set, but he’s by no means body shy so he grabs Anders by the hand and tugs him on to the bed.   The vampire peels the blond out of his suit jacket but doesn’t yet reach for the buttons of his shirt. In return he can feel the other’s hands tracing over his muscles appreciatively. He gently eases Anders onto his back on the bed, not breaking the kiss while he does so.

Mitchell tries, but he can’t continue denying his exhaustion when he actually yawns into Anders’ mouth as they’re kissing. He breaks away from the kiss to smother it in the other man’s firm shoulder. He wants to snuggle in, but feels the blond stiffen and is about to pull away to see what’s wrong when he gets shoved sharply. The brunet tumbles off onto the floor, smacking his head off the bedside table on the way down.

“Owww. What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that me boring you was nothing to worry about.” Anders stands from the bed and starts pacing the room in tight circles, worrying his hands as he speaks.

Mitchell is nothing but confused by Anders’ accusation. “Boring me? What’re you talking about? You weren’t boring me.”

“You can stop lying, Mitchell. You yawned while you were kissing me! I thought things were going well, but apparently you’re tired of me already. I suppose I should have expected it...” this last part is spoken quietly, almost to himself as he trails off.

Mitchell gingerly stands up. His head is still throbbing and he feels a sickening lurch in his stomach as he straightens, but he can’t let Anders keep feeling this way. In one long stride he’s next to the other man, wrapping his arms gently but firmly around him. Anders struggles to get away, but he can’t compete with the vampire’s strength.

Mitchell waits before Anders’ struggles slow before speaking, “I don’t know why you think I could possibly get bored of you, but nothing is farther from the truth. You’re one of the most interesting people I’ve ever met, and I like you a lot. I was yawning because today has been absolutely exhausting and I was completely run off my feet at the pub. The only reason I’m even still awake is because you’re here.” Anders’ movements stop entirely as he hears the brunet speak, and when he stops the blond’s head gently connects with his shoulder as Anders’ arms tentatively come up to return the hold.

“Do you promise?” Anders says so quietly that even the vampire has to strain to hear him.

“I promise love,” Mitchell hadn’t meant to say that so soon, but it seems to be what Anders needs to hear. His arms clutch the brunet even tighter as he shakes in the hold. Mitchell would think that he was crying, but he can’t feel any dampness on his skin.

After long moments, Anders sighs and pulls away. “Sorry for overreacting. Is your head alright?”

“S’alright. As I told you when we met, I’ve got a hard head.”

Anders smiles ruefully. “It looks like you need one being around me. I really am sorry. I should probably leave you to get some sleep then.” Mitchell doesn’t want to let him leave, but he’s barely staying on his feet between the exhaustion and the head injury. He doesn’t want to tell Anders, but he’s pretty sure he’s bleeding. Normally he’d ask Anders to stay regardless, but he doesn’t want to risk biting him while half-asleep. He doesn’t trust himself to stay in control like this.

“I’m sorry, I’d love for you to stay, but I’ve got another long shift tomorrow as well. I’ll call you this week sometime.”

“I understand. Sleep well.” Mitchell can feel the apology in the kiss Anders presses to his lips before he leaves. Normally the brunet would stay awake for some time, turning Anders’ reaction over in his head, but his head barely hits the pillow before he’s asleep. His last thought before passing out is that he’ll have to make a point of texting Anders the next day.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who has read, commented, or given kudos to this fic. It's fantastic to hear that people are still reading it and looking forward to more this far in. As usual, thanks to GreenSorceress for being so fantastically supportive and datsunblue for insuring I don't mess up Kiwi-things and providing locations. If you have constructive criticism for this fic, please leave a comment. This chapter has pretty much some of the first sexy times I've ever written, so please let me know what worked and what didn't.

Anders rolls over and groans when he hears his phone ringing. His bed is toasty warm and he just wants to be lazy today. He ignores the phone until it kicks over to voicemail, but it starts ringing again almost immediately. It’s got to be Mike, no one else would be so peremptory about demanding his attention on a Sunday.

“What is it, Mike?” he groans out, not even bothering to check the caller ID.

“We’re having a hui tomorrow at noon, and you need to be there.”

“A hui? What? We aren’t Māori, we have Things.”

“It turns out there are Māori gods, and we have to have a hui with them about Gaia. They have a prophecy about her too. We have to discuss if she belongs to our pantheon or theirs.” Anders can’t believe what he’s hearing. How did they not know there are other gods? He pauses and thinks about that for a moment and it’s suddenly much easier to believe that the Johnsons would have no idea about Māori gods. Still...

“I can’t believe you agreed to a hui, are you insane? Do you know how long those things go on for?”

“Other gods, Anders.”

“Mike, I _can’t_ go. My business is just starting to recover from when Agnetha sent me off to Norway. I need to work tomorrow.” Dawn would kill him if he allowed the business to fail so soon after he’d asked her to be a partner. He’s about to ask why they can’t have the hui after business hours, but Mike is speaking again.

“Fine, look after yourself,” his older brother accuses scornfully. “That’s what you always do, even when this family needs you.” Anders wants to reply, but Mike has already hung up and he’s not about to call that prick back. Still, it burns. After the number of times he’s dropped everything for his family, he still gets accused of being selfish. Hell, that’s half the reason his business was in the toilet! He can’t really see what there is to have a hui about anyways. Gaia will be one goddess or the other, it’s not like talking about it for hours is really going to change anything. The blond walks to his closet and pulls out Yggdrasil. If only this stupid stick did _something_ , maybe he’d finally get some respect from Mike. His trip to Norway was useless...

Actually, that’s not entirely true.   If he hadn’t gone to Norway, he may have never met Mitchell. Thinking about Mitchell is a much better alternative than contemplating his shitty excuse for a family, so he loses himself in thoughts about the other man for a time. Should he call him his boyfriend at this point? It sounds like a stupid term for a thirty one year old to be using, but they definitely aren’t lovers yet, nor are they partners. Mitchell is certainly significant to him at this point, but he’s not a significant other either. Screw it, Anders isn’t much of one for convention anyways. They are what they are and there’s no need to put a name to it.

Anders dozes back off when Bragi starts suggesting more terms for relationships and going into the etymology of words. It’s relaxing lazy musing rather than the quicksilver thoughts and ideas he more commonly gets from the god, which makes it easy to drift off. The rapidity of the god’s speech and thoughts are fantastic when he’s coming up with new ideas for a campaign, but they frequently cause him to drink or drug himself into a state of insensibility so he can rest. Anders has never showed them to anybody, but he’s also got pages and pages of notebooks filled with poetry and stories and random scribbling. As far as he can tell the ideas are all his own but his god sparks the desire to write and create, as well as acting as a sort of sounding board.

When Anders wakes up that afternoon, Bragi is a comfortable golden bubble in the back of his mind. He’s still feeling tired despite all the sleep he’s had and decides to have a lazy day in. Shuffling out of bed, he pulls on a loose pair of sweats and a t-shirt worn thin from repeated washes, grabs his book from its hiding place, and goes out to collapse on his couch. He’s not sure anyone he knows would believe that he has days like this; days where he doesn’t slick his hair back and put on his neatly pressed armour against the world. Certainly they wouldn’t think that he enjoys reading in his spare time. He has a tiny library of his own tucked away in the corner of his closet but most books he gets from the public library.

Anders was currently re-reading _Reaper’s Gale_ by Steven Erikson. He really enjoyed the author’s storytelling and vivid imagery, as well as his world-building. He’d gotten addicted to fantasy novels, enjoying reading about other worlds. It helped that he could feel Bragi’s approval at the epic scope of this particular series. The rest of the day passed in a haze of words, only interrupted by the occasional bite of food. He collapses into bed still half caught in the world of the Malazans from the story. When he wakes the following morning he sees he’s missed a half-dozen text messages from Mitchell in his literary haze, but they’re just sharing small moments from the other man’s day and he knows Mitchell won’t mind that he hadn’t responded.

The next day at work is uneventful aside from when Mike calls to complain about Anders not being there for the hui, even though he already knew Anders couldn’t show.

“Well maybe if it was after working hours, I would be able to go! Don’t any of the rest of you have jobs?” Anders almost shouts down the line before hanging up. He wishes he wasn’t on his cell so he could have the satisfaction of slamming the phone into the cradle. Instead, he settles for thumping his forehead gently off the piles of client portfolios in front of him.

“Family problems?” Dawn asks gently.

“Yeah,” he mumbles into the folders in agreement.   It reminds him he’s at the office though, and he quickly straightens to put his client face back on. The office isn’t a safe place for him to show emotion. Dawn takes her cue from his expression and shuffles the pile in front of her into order before giving a report.

“So the dog food company wants to come up with a new TV spot, you have an appointment with them tomorrow at one to discuss that. Keegan Publishing has come through with the promised contract from Friday, apparently they were _really_ unhappy with the agency they found after us. The terms seem to be the usual, the contract is in the green folder for you to look over. I’ve also sent the contract to Natalie and confirmed she has it, but she didn’t give me an estimate on when Lindus will get back to us.”

“Thank you Dawn, excellent work as usual. How many clients does that put us to now?”

“Aside from the two that stayed with us, we have three confirmed. Lindus is considering working with us, and we’ll have to wait and see if any of the others you talked to are interested in drawing up contracts.”

They pass the rest of the day mostly in silence. Anders is busy looking over that contract, then tries to come up with ideas to present to the makers of that truly terrible dog food. They’d had difficulty in the past with TV spots because the dogs didn’t want to eat the food. If only he could use his powers to turn Axl into a dog for filming... That kid would eat anything. Maybe Bragi would work on a dog? He’d never thought to try before.

He’s not sure what Dawn’s busy with. Probably fantastic organizational Dawn things. He supposes he should really figure out what the names of her duties are if they’re going to be talking about a partnership agreement later that week. Anders is in the odd position of having to research his own company and field. It hadn’t mattered before. When he’d started j:pr, Anders had done all the work. Once it actually seemed like it would succeed as a business, he’d needed to hire a secretary to handle some of the workload, and Dawn had been with him ever since. As the company had grown, so had her workload but since she was the only employee her job title hadn’t mattered. Dawn was happy as long as her pay reflected her duties.

Now, since they would be drawing up more of a contract for her position, it would have to be clearer what her responsibilities would actually be. At least on paper. Crap, that probably meant he’d have to hire an actual secretary for them at some point.

Ah well, all concerns for another day. “Closing time, Dawnsie. Go home and feed your cat.”

She responds with a huff to the familiar teasing, tidying her desk and grabbing her purse before heading out the door. Anders lingers a little longer to make sure everything’s squared away, then pulls out his phone to text Mitchell.

_Hey, are you free tonight?_

_Sorry. The usual delivery guy for one of the craft beers is off. I have to drive to Hamilton to pick up the bar’s order. Another night?_

He’s disappointed that Mitchell isn’t free. He’d had another opportunity to apologize for his misunderstanding on Friday night the following day, but they haven’t seen each other in person since that night. Anders wants to be sure that Mitchell isn’t hurt or harbouring misgivings after that, and while Bragi is fantastic for that it only works in person. He can’t really hold needing to go away for work against the other man though, he doesn’t want to sink to Mike’s levels of hypocrisy. Since Mitchell isn’t available, he figures he might as well do that research tonight. Anders turns back to his office and retrieves his MacBook before heading home.

Anders is incredibly startled to see Ty at his door later that night. After he failed to show up at the hui, he figured none of his family would turn up for a week. Despite this, his younger brother is at his door looking somewhat wild-eyed.

“Ty? Why are you here?”

“I need your help.”

“Come in then, have a seat.” He ushers Ty in and directs him to the couch, grabbing a beer for each of them. “What do you need my help with?”

Ty takes a long swig from his beer before speaking. “I talked to Kvasir. He,” here Ty pauses to take a deep breath before speaking again. “He said there’s a way for me to become mortal.”

“That’s fantastic Ty, but how can I help with that?” He’s happy to hear his favourite brother wants his help, but he has no fucking clue how to make Ty mortal. Nudging him with Yggdrasil hadn’t done anything.

“I need to borrow Yggdrasil. Apparently it’ll help release the god spirit from my body.” Although there’s apparently still a way for it to do something. Finally, the useless stick of uselessness has a purpose!

“Of course, bro. Anything you need. Is there anything else I can do to help?”

“Don’t tell Mike? He wanted me to have a big long talk with him before I tried anything, but I really need to do this.”

“Like I would tell that wanker anything. I don’t know why he still thinks he’s the boss, we’re all grown men.”

“Anders?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.” There’s genuine gratitude in Ty’s voice as he thanks him. Anders feels a rush of warmth towards the other. Of all his brothers, Ty had always been the closest to the blond. He’s such a gentle person at heart, it was terrible luck that he was stuck with Hod. He happily hands over Yggdrasil and wishes Ty luck.

The next day Anders slips out of work early in the afternoon to go find Ty and see how being mortal looked on him. He’d gotten a text earlier that morning telling him that whatever the method was, it had succeeded, but he needed to see it for himself.

It turns out being mortal again looks good on Ty. His skin has a healthy flush for the first time since he turned 21, and he has a sincere smile on his face.   He hands Yggdrasil back to Anders, but before they can sit down to talk Mike barges in.

“I need your help,” Mike says to Ty after a long moment, shifting uncomfortably. He’s pretty much ignoring Anders. It’s a very different sort of request than Ty had made just the night before. “To deal to Loki.

“When you say ‘deal to’?” Ty asks, huffing a little in disbelief.

“After everything he has done to this family he needs to be stopped, and according to Kvasir, you’re the man for the job.”

“If you’re looking for Hod to help you out, I’m not him anymore,” Ty shrugs with a sheepish smile.

“ _Hoh_ , Bull-SHIT!” Mike turns away, rubbing his palms over his face.

“I found a way, Mike.”

“We were supposed to talk before you did anything!”

“An opportunity arose.”

“No, we had a _deal_.”

At this point, Anders can’t take anymore and has to interject. “Christ, Mike! Can’t you allow Ty this chance to be happy? Just because you’re caught up in your little revenge fantasy with Colin doesn’t mean Ty has to be a part of it.”

“This is not about me, this is about the danger he poses to _our family_.”

“Don’t try to turn this into something noble,” Ty says incredulously. “You’re pissed off because Colin was getting his rocks off watching while you were boinking his ex-girlfriend.”

“What he does attacks all of us. The family that _you_ just betrayed.”

“Betrayed? How did Ty betray us?” Anders asks. He can hardly believe how far Mike is willing to take this.

“He betrayed us by choosing to become mortal without talking it over first.”

“Come off it Mike. Ty’s a big boy, he can make his own decisions,” Anders face screws up in contempt at Mike still trying to be the boss. “And he came to me and Olaf before he did this.”

“Oh, of course you would defend him, you little selfish prick. Always acting in your own self interest, no matter who else it hurts. Well I’m trying to look out for the good of this family!”

Anders ignores Mike’s comment on his character, he’s used to what his older brother thinks of him by now. He just can’t believe that Mike is trying to play the hero here. “Really? Are you Mike? Because I don’t see the good for this family in pissing off the most powerful god we know of. I can’t think of a better way to get someone killed than messing with Loki. Colin would be a psychopath even without Loki’s powers backing him up. We’re much better off staying out of his way.”

“You would think that, you fucking coward.” Mike starts towards Anders, fists clenched angrily. The blond tenses at the anticipation of pain, but holds his ground. He sees Ty tense as well in his peripheral vision, but for now the other man stays where he is.

“What, are you going to try to beat it out of me like you did when we were kids? It didn’t work for you or Dad then, why do you think it would work now?”

“No, this is just because you deserve it. You’re a selfish little fuck, and always have been. And now you’re encouraging Ty to do the same rather than help his family!” Mike’s really shouting by this point, going red in the face. He’s never looked more like their father to Anders.

“The only one you’re trying to get him to help is you! If you feel so strongly about this, take on Loki yourself! You call me a coward, but I’m not the one trying to get my little brother to do my dirty work.”

Mike finally takes a swing at him and Anders flinches away, but doesn’t try to defend himself. He learned a long time ago that just makes things worse. This time though, Ty steps in between the two and catches Mike’s fist before it can land. Enraged, Mike tries to wrestle free to go after Anders again, but he can’t match Ty’s strength.

“That’s enough, Mike. You know, for a long time I agreed with you about a lot of the things you said about Anders. But this here? This is you blaming him for telling truths you don’t want to hear. I’m starting to wonder about all the rest of it as well.”

“But he...”

“I think you’d better leave, Mike.” The eldest brother is clearly reluctant, but he has no chance to look like the injured party if he fights them so he leaves with poor grace.

After the door closes, all the adrenaline and bravado seeps out of Anders until he has to go collapse on the couch. He winds up sitting there shaking for long moments. It took everything he had to stand strong in front of Mike, too many memories of childhood beatings and hospital visits for broken bones surfacing in his mind. It’s long moments before he realizes that Ty is calling his name and trying to get him to respond.

“Anders...Anders? Are you alright? Please, answer me!” Ty sounds almost frantic at this point, so Anders takes a moment to breathe in and lock it all away again. He’s got years of practice and manages to pull his cocky facade back into place. Only someone who knows him very well and is looking for it would notice the fine tremors still shaking through his frame.

Ty is visibly taken aback by the transformation. “Anders, what? How did you just do that?” he asks incredulously. Then a look of horror crosses his face. “How often have you had to do that?”

Finally someone is asking the right questions, but it’s not something Anders is willing to answer. “What do you mean, Ty? I just had a bit of an adrenaline crash, and I haven’t had enough to eat today. Dawn and I were busy in the office.” As he’d intended, the mention of Dawn manages to get Ty focussed on something other than Anders. He didn’t really want to talk about the abuse he’d dealt with in childhood. Ty had been lucky enough to have their mother as his protector, Anders hadn’t been so fortunate. He’s had more cause to practice pulling himself together as Bragi’s vessel. The god of poetry had an undeniable draw for mortals, and that draw wasn’t always a good thing for the god’s vessel. He listens to Ty talk about Dawn for awhile, but makes his excuses before his brother can start asking any more questions.

Driving home is a good distraction from all the memories that are trying to surface. Anders doesn’t particularly want to crash, so he has to keep his focus on the road. He needs that redirection to help hold the tears at bay. He’s been holding them back for over twenty years, he’ll be damned if he’s going to cry now. Trying to keep the memories off once he’s at home will be much more difficult though so he turns towards _The Dog’s Bollix_ on impulse. Maybe Mitchell will be up for a bit of a sightseeing stroll. Anders supposes he could drive some more rather than risk breaking down in front of someone, but Mitchell is a much more pleasant distraction. He also doesn’t think he can maintain focus on driving if he’s alone and doesn’t want to end up wrapped around a tree.

* * *

The moment Mitchell opens the door to Anders, he knows something’s wrong. Rather than draw attention to that since he can tell Anders is trying to hide it, he greets him cheerfully. If the blond wants him to know, he’ll tell him in his own time. Mitchell returns Anders’ enthusiastic kiss and mourns the loss when the other pulls away.

“I’ve got some free time, do you want to go somewhere?”

Since it’s Tuesday, Mitchell is happy to be able to say yes. “Is there anywhere particular you wanted to show me?”

“Actually, yes. Should I tell you, or do you trust me enough to let it be a surprise?”

“Of course I trust you. Blindfold me if you want, as long as you promise I won’t trip over anything.” Mitchell likes the pleased smile that makes Anders’ dimples pop at that response. He can also see the wicked glint in blue eyes from thinking of the other possibilities a blindfold presented.

“If that’s the case, I didn’t come prepared enough. Have anything I can use as a blindfold?”

“Umm...” Mitchell digs around in his stuff. He doesn’t have much, but somehow in the short time he’s been living in the flat it’s become a bit of a tip. Finally he pulls out a soft blue scarf that he didn’t even remember packing, but will serve well enough. Anders smiles again at the sight and grabs him by the hand, tugging him out of the flat.

“I’ll let you get in the car before we put the blindfold on,” he says, laughing. Mitchell is pleased that whatever shadows still linger in the other man’s eyes, he’s still succeeded in pulling out a genuine laugh. He’s been through enough dark times himself to know that real laughter always helps.

The Irishman follows Anders to his car parked a short distance away and allows him to tie the blindfold around his eyes before hopping in the passenger seat. He can tell that Anders has at least a little experience with this, because he can’t see anything through the soft fabric. As they drive he keeps up a steady stream of conversation to try to distract the other man. He can’t see his face, so he has to rely on Anders’ voice for cues. When Mitchell hears his voice become tight again, the vampire launches into a story about their misadventures with Tully, carefully edited to remove all mentions of the supernatural. The drive is longer than he’d expected and he rolls into another story about ‘Gilbert fun’ before they finally arrive. He goes to pull off the blindfold but Anders’ hand stops him.

“Ah-ah, not so fast. You said I could blindfold you, now it stays on until I say so,” Mitchell can hear the smirk in his voice. It’s too late now to wonder what he’s gotten himself in to, so he follows Anders’ lead. This time the surface they’re walking on is uneven. He wraps an arm around the blond’s shoulders to steady himself and feels Anders arm around his waist in return. He has time to savour the feeling because it’s a long walk to wherever they’re going. They walk in silence and once Mitchell gets used to walking without his sight, he starts to catalogue the sounds and scents around them. The briny scent in the air is familiar and he can tell they’re headed to the shore.

In the distance, the roar of the surf overlays all other sounds, but he can’t identify anything else he’s hearing. Even the crickets sound different here on the other side of the world. A wave of homesickness he didn’t know he could still feel washes over him, as for some reason the sounds he’s hearing tell him just how far away from anything familiar he really is. Mitchell actually finds himself tearing up a little and is glad to have the blindfold hiding his suddenly watery eyes. The long walk gives him the chance to pull himself together, as well as reminding himself as to why he left and all the good things he’s found here.

When Anders finally tugs the blindfold off his eyes, Mitchell blinks slowly in the sudden light then freezes. As soon as his eyes adjust, one of the most beautiful sights he’s ever seen swims into focus. The black sand beach spreads wide in front of him with no other people around to break the long smooth lines of the shore. The beach is only sheltered from the wide ocean by a few rugged rocky islands, but it’s enough that the surf is calm that evening. He can tell that the tide is just beginning to roll back in. It’s near sunset, and the fading light adds a soft golden glow to the waves.

He turns around to share his joy with the man who brought him there, and finds Anders grinning softly at his excitement. “You’d think you’d never seen a beach before,” comes the tart comment, but Mitchell can see that Anders is pleased by his reaction.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been to a beach like this. All the ones near Bristol are overcrowded and polluted, unless you want to go somewhere really remote.”

“To be honest, I was expecting there to be at least one other group of people here tonight. I guess the beach isn’t a popular Tuesday evening getaway,” Anders admits, looking around as if someone else might be lurking behind a gently rolling dune.

“I’m glad we have it to ourselves. Where are we anyways? You never really struck me as the beach-going type.”

Anders grins, “we’re at Whatipu. You’re right, I’m not usually a fan of the beach unless attractive people in skimpy swimwear are involved, but I needed to get out of the city tonight. And my cousin Olaf is a big surfing fan. He’s dragged me and my brothers to various beaches over the years.”

Mitchell grins back. He can picture a younger Anders complaining about getting dragged to a beach and then getting distracted by fit people not wearing much. “Sorry to disappoint on the skimpy swimwear,” he teases.

Anders moves further into Mitchell’s personal space and the vampire can see the wicked glint in his eyes as the blond runs his hand over Mitchell’s chest. “I know you don’t have a swimsuit on you, but we could definitely fix that problem of you being overdressed. I saw some tattoos on you the other night I didn’t get to investigate.” He knows it’s meant to be sexy, but he can’t help but laugh a little about his tattoos. If he’d known they would actually stay, he would have gotten something different.

“Nah, they’re not really that interesting,” Mitchell responds, deliberately downplaying them to see what Anders will do. He’s not disappointed when he sees the feral grin on the other man’s face at the challenge. It seems he’s entirely distracted now from his earlier upset.

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of what I find interesting?” Anders steps even further into the Irishman’s space and peels his jacket off his shoulders. Mitchell allows him that, but decides to try to even it a little when Anders goes for the hem of his long-sleeved tee. The brunet grabs for the hem of his royal blue pullover but misses when the Kiwi squirms away. Instead he winds up raking his fingers across the other man’s sides and getting an unexpected squeak of laughter in response. Mitchell pauses for a moment to consider this, then repeats his action, getting another squeak when he does so. Anders sees the smile slowly spreading across Mitchell’s face and begins to back away slowly.

“Don’t even think about- _it!”_ the last word is high pitched as the blond turns to dash across the beach away from Mitchell’s outstretched arms. The vampire allows his prey a moment’s head start before quickly catching up. He winds up gently tackling Anders to the sand and tickling him for long moments, unexpectedly captivated by his helpless laughter.

“Mitchell...you fuckin’...bastard,” Anders gasps out between fits. “Stop fucking...tickling...me.” Mitchell is reluctant to give up this new discovery, but he doesn’t want to push Anders too far. And after he stops, he finds he also quite likes the image of the dishevelled blond under him panting for breath with damp black sand in patches over his formerly pristine clothing. As much as he loves Anders in his crisp suits, Mitchell seems to be developing a definite kink for mussing him up. He leans in to kiss the other man deeply, then takes advantage of the fact that Anders is still breathless to peel off his shirt. He gives the blond a quick peck on the lips and a grin before darting off with his pullover.

Mitchell isn’t expecting for the Kiwi to get up any time soon, so he’s rather startled when just as he starts turning around to taunt the other man he gets hit in a hard tackle and lands in a tussock with another body on top. He recovers from his brief moment of disorientation to see Anders straddling him with a smug grin.

“It was my idea for shirts to come off, so yours is coming off first,” he declares before grabbing the hem and yanking. Unfortunately the shirt fits tighter than Anders was expecting and it gets stuck around Mitchell’s arms and head. The brunet flails around helplessly for a moment as Anders bursts into laughter before calming down and helping to extricate him from his shirts. He grabs Mitchell’s arm and moves it so he can begin to examine the tattoo. Mitchell allows the exploration for a time, but when he sees Anders open his mouth to say something, he uses a bit of his supernatural strength to flip them. The vampire grins at the blond’s look of confusion as to why he’s suddenly pinned again and nimbly unbuttons his shirt, easing it off his shoulders.

The brunet pauses for a long moment after the shirt’s off to take in the body of the man under him. Anders doesn’t have hugely defined musculature, but he’s definitely not soft. There’s a pleasing firmness to his compact body that Mitchell has to appreciate.

He makes no effort to hide his appraisal, but where most people would begin squirming in discomfort at the long look, Anders cocks an eyebrow in challenge. Mitchell runs his hand up Anders’ side to cup the back of his neck and pulls him into a firm kiss. In keeping with the challenge, this kiss is all tongues and teeth. The blond wins the upper hand when he tugs firmly on Mitchell’s curls and takes advantage of the shiver and moan this draws to flip them again, pinning Mitchell to the sand. The vampire isn’t exactly submissive by nature, but he doesn’t feel the need to continually dominate Anders. This give and take is far more pleasurable.

Anders takes full advantage of his discovery about Mitchell’s hair and the brunet finds himself wanting to toss the whole ‘going slowly’ thing out the window in minutes. He just wants to fuck the blond, but he won’t until the other man knows what he is and has a chance to back out. This relationship has already gone further than he’d planned before having that discussion.   Still...after considering for a long moment he reaches for Anders’ waistband where he sits above the brunet and slides the zipper down. When he looks to the blond to make sure it’s alright, he finds heavy lidded blue eyes watching him, pupils blown wide in arousal. The other man gives him a long look before he leans back slightly from where he’s straddling Mitchell and rests his hands on the brunet’s thighs. He’s clearly offering himself up for exploration, his posture radiating confidence and challenge.

Mitchell locks eyes with the other man and keeps that contact while his hand finds Anders’ cock and gives it one slow pump. He enjoys the shiver he gets in response as Anders’ eyes slide shut in pleasure. Keeping one hand stroking slowly, the other moves pants and boxer shorts out of the way so he has better access. Mitchell is in no hurry to finish this, taking his time to try different things and watch each reaction. Whenever something pulls a particularly pleased noise out of the blond, he repeats it once or twice before continuing to experiment. His other hand wanders over the firm planes of Anders’ chest and back, occasionally pausing to tweak a nipple.

He finally has mercy and speeds up a little when Anders is continually panting for breath as his hips move in short jerks trying to chase the pleasure. He finally pins the other man’s hips down with his free hand, so Anders has no option but to take what Mitchell chooses to give. He’s enjoying taking the blond apart slowly. The brunet feels his own arousal growing with every choked off noise and moan. He’s somewhat surprised that Anders hasn’t tried to take some control of the pace, but he’s glad of it.

After long moments of slow torment, Anders finally moans out, “Mitchell, _please._ ” Never one to deny his lovers anything, Mitchell uses everything he’s learned about what the blond likes to take him apart until he spurts all over the brunet’s chest. Mitchell strokes him through the aftershocks until Anders finally collapses, shaking, into his own mess.

By this point, Mitchell himself is so worked up from the sight and sound of Anders’ pleasure that a few hard grinds into the body on top have Mitchell shuddering through his own climax. He lays there in the sand luxuriating in the pleasurable buzz until Anders rouses himself, doing his best to ignore the sticky mess in his jeans.

“Okay, that was fantastic,” Anders mumbles into Mitchell’s shoulder. “I’m not really liking getting glued together with come though. Do you know how hard that is to clean out of chest hair?”

Mitchell has to laugh. “I do in fact. If you give me a second though...” he gropes around on the sand for a moment before sitting up, tipping Anders off on to his back.

“What was that for?”

Mitchell ignores his complaint, his eyes scanning the beach until he sees the scarf they used for the blindfold. Grabbing it, he strides to the water and dunks it in, noting absently that the tide has come in and glad they were high enough on the beach not to get wet. He uses the damp scarf to rub the mess off his own chest before returning to Anders and doing the same for him.

“Oh, good idea. Ta.”

After Anders is cleaned off, he takes the scarf back and considers the mess in his jeans. Mitchell finally concludes there’s nothing for it and kicks off his shoes so he can strip them off along with the soiled boxer briefs. He sees Anders appreciative gaze follow the movements, and then sees a look of confusion cross the other’s face.

“I was just about to offer to return the favour, but...”

“I got off while you were still basking in the afterglow.” Mitchell briskly cleans off the mess before stepping back into his jeans, leaving the boxers off. The jeans are still damp at the front but there’s not much he can do about that. The scarf and boxers get rinsed out before he returns to Anders to draw him into another kiss.

When Mitchell grabs Anders this time, he can feel the other man shivering, but not from pleasure. The sun’s nearly set by now and the spring breeze is cool coming off the water. He finds new cause to regret that he’s a vampire, as he has no body heat to share with the chilly blond. Vampires aren’t cold to the touch per se, but their bodies tended to hover around room temperature rather than the human norm. He _can_ warm up, but it’s certainly not going to happen on a beach near sunset. With regret, the brunet suggests that maybe it’s time to head back to the city. He can see the blond’s face tighten at the thought of heading back, but he agrees all the same. They locate their missing shirts and brush off the sand, heading back to the car with hands tangled together.

The drive back passes in comfortable silence. Mitchell can tell that Anders is starting to brood again, but he’s still not ready to talk. He seems less tightly strung than before however, and the brunet is glad to have been some help.

It’s only after they’ve said goodnight and Mitchell is back in his own flat that he realizes he hadn’t once thought about blood.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here's the next chapter. I wrote this chapter quite some time ago, and I've really been looking forward to posting it. After this, we've reached the point in the story where I had things somewhat clearly planned, so if you have things you'd like to see please drop me a comment. I can't promise to include them, but I will take suggestions into account.  
> Thanks to everyone who left comments or kudos for the last chapter, it seems a lot of you liked it and that really means a lot to me. And thanks to GreenSorceress and datsunblue for looking over my work and giving me feedback!

A few days later, Mitchell wakes up in Anders’ bed. They hadn’t yet had sex, but they had fallen asleep while kissing and lazily rutting together the night before. He untangles himself from the blond, wincing at the crusty mess in his boxer briefs before stealing a pair from Anders and slipping into the shower. He actually has to soak his own off of himself. The other man still hasn’t woken after his quick shower so after towelling dry and slipping on the underwear, the Irishman goes to investigate the contents of the fridge. He’s pleased to see that Anders actually has some food in there today, and manages to make bacon and eggs before the blond wanders out. He’s obviously just had his own shower, and Mitchell is distracted from his cooking by the path of a droplet of water sliding down the blond’s neck and along his collarbone. He’s relieved that even when he stares at Anders’ neck, he still has no desire to bite him. If he did, they never would have shared a bed.

The morning passes far too quickly with none of the awkwardness Mitchell had worried about for being a ‘morning after’. He felt in no hurry to leave, but he has to work that afternoon and Anders has some family thing. After breakfast, they both dress slowly, sharing the odd lingering kiss.

They’re in the living room preparing to go their separate ways when someone hits the intercom. When the blond answers it, he happily buzzes someone named Natalie up, turning to Mitchell to say, “this will just take a minute, she’s here about business. I have to go to my family’s thing after that but we can leave together.” He’s smiling when he goes to open the door, but that all changes when a blonde woman bursts through it with a crossbow. Mitchell assumes this is Natalie, but all his vampiric instincts are screaming into overdrive at the threat.

“Whoa, Jesus, Natalie! Maybe where you come from this passes as humour, but...” Anders immediately tries to deflect with words. The woman wielding the crossbow however is not so easily put off. She starts chanting in Latin. Mitchell can instantly tell that it’s some sort of prayer from the effect it has on him as a vampire, but since it’s not directed at him the effect isn’t as strong. As she continues, he recognizes it as a prayer to Saint Michael. He’s heard it a few times before from victims, although it was never enough to save them.

“I have no idea what you’re saying,” Anders says shakily. The blond is visibly worried at this point, and all Mitchell wants to do is keep him safe. His chance comes when the lunatic with the crossbow turns to him and orders him to leave, trying to claim that Anders is a demon. He uses his vampiric speed as she’s turning back to the blond to close with her and relieve her of her weapon.

“I don’t know what you think Anders is, but _he’s_ not the demon.” The vampire allows his fangs to slide out and blinks his eyes black. “ _I’m_ the one you should have been worried about.” He goes to bury his fangs in her neck when a shout from Anders stops him.

“Mitchell, don’t! Let me try something first before you kill her.” He’s not sure what it is that the Kiwi wants to try, but he’s more than willing to let him make the attempt. Mitchell doesn’t particularly want to kill anyone even if it’s the only way he can think of to protect Anders. He holds the woman securely and turns her to face the other man, while still ensuring she can’t break free.

**_“I want you to listen to me very carefully...”_ **

“Abomination! You are to be cleansed...” her tirade is cut short as Mitchell wraps his hand over her mouth. Anders gives him a grateful nod before continuing.

**_“...you’re going to tell me who you really are, and why you’re here.   You’re going to tell me if there’s anyone else out there who believes the same things you do. And then you’re going to forget that this ever happened. There’s no such thing as demons or abominations that need to be cleansed. “_** Anders’ voice sounds a little weird to Mitchell, almost like he’s mumbling, but he feels a draw towards him at the same time.

When Anders nods again, the vampire uncovers her mouth again. “My name is Natalie Mather. I am here to destroy false gods and unclean filth such as you and your family...” she’s clearly struggling against whatever compulsion Anders’ voice has placed on her. Mitchell is curious about the false gods thing, but now’s not the time to ask.

“This man is a demon and needs to be destroyed before...” the vampire covers her mouth again to shut her up.

“Is your thing going to work, or do you need me to take care of it?” Mitchell asks. Natalie jerks in his arms, but doesn’t even get close to breaking away. She’s clearly afraid, but he’s happy to see that Anders isn’t flinching away. At least not yet.

“Let me try again. If it still doesn’t work, you’re up.” His voice betrays his nerves, but his gaze is impressively steady. The blond turns back to Natalie and focuses on her eyes. He clearly puts more power into his voice as he begins to speak again. **_“Tell me who sent you here!”_**

“I come from the Church of the Open Arms, and I’m part of a group that follows the Word of John.   Our sister group in Norway told us about you from your trip there.” She begins to spout vitriol at him again, and Mitchell can see the point at which Anders gives up on finding out any more information.

**_“Silence!”_** he thunders at her. ** _“You will forget everything about this. If anyone else from your church asks you about your time here, you will tell them that the reports were false. There are no gods aside from yours, and suggesting otherwise is blasphemy. Now go!”_**

After Mitchell lets Natalie go, making sure she leaves without her crossbow, the two men stand in shocked silence for a long moment. Anders is the first to open his mouth to speak, but the silence doesn’t appreciably change. It’s clear the blond is trying to speak, but no sound is coming out. He’s starting to panic again, and all other worries leave Mitchell’s mind in favour of calming him down. The vampire approaches cautiously, relieved that the blond doesn’t immediately shy away. He begins rubbing circles on Anders’ back to sooth him and the other gradually relaxes into Mitchell’s body as he comes down.

“Better?”

Anders nods in response.

“Look, clearly we have a lot to talk about, but I think that can wait until after your voice comes back. For now, just let me say that I’m not going to hurt you or anyone else. I promise.” With that assurance, Mitchell feels the last of the tension leave the other’s body. He gently leads the Kiwi over to the couch where they slouch down and begin to feel the adrenaline leave their systems. At least until Mitchell thinks of something else the religious nut had said...

“Wait, Anders, she said that she was here to destroy false gods likeyou _and your family!_ Do you think they could have someone after them now?”

Anders sits bolt upright on the couch in alarm, trying to speak but his voice hasn’t returned yet. He turns to Mitchell with wide blue eyes that beg him to find a solution.

“If you can write down who to call and what to say, I’ll make the call for you,” Mitchell offers. Anders is immediately off the couch, rummaging around for his phone, paper, and something to write with. In short order he’s back scribbling something down and passing both the phone and the paper to the vampire.

_Call Mike. His phone number is listed as ‘prick’. Tell him to be careful, people know we’re gods and want to kill us for it._

Mitchell notes the confirmation that Anders is some sort of god, but it’s more important to warn the rest of the Johnsons now. That conversation can wait.

He quickly finds Mike’s number in the phone and after a few short rings a gruff voice answers. “The fuck Anders, you should be here already! The ceremony’s started. You can’t even bother being here for Axl...” before Mike can continue, Mitchell cuts him off.

“This is Mitchell, not Anders. You have a bigger problem than Anders not making it to the ceremony. There’s a Christian group out there that knows you’re gods, and one of them just tried to kill Anders. I’m calling to warn you they may be after you as well, she mentioned his family.”

“Seriously? Is this a prank? Put Anders on!”

“I am being very serious! Someone just tried to _murder_ your brother. He did some weird thing with his voice and she’s forgotten about you, but now he can’t speak. You all need to be very careful, she had a crossbow and there are apparently more like her.”

“What the fuck? And why do you even know about us? He knows better than that, I’m going to smack him.”

Mitchell narrows his eyes at this, and his voice goes deadly cold. “I know about you because of what she said, and Anders had to confirm it so I could warn you. I’m not exactly a normal human myself. And I would suggest...”

“...Oh shit,” Mike interrupts Mitchell, but his change in tone alerts Mitchell to allow Mike to keep speaking, despite how angry he is. “Tell Anders we have another problem.” Mitchell is about ready to hop in the car and get Anders to drive to wherever this thing is happening when Mike speaks again.

“Gaia isn’t Frigg.”

The Irishman relays this to Anders, and the look of disbelief prompts him to ask, “then who is she?”

“She’s Papatūānuku...”


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up, I had a really hard time writing it for some reason. Thanks to everyone who took the time to leave kudos or comments for this story, I'm glad people are sticking with me. Thanks as always to TheGreenSorceress and datsunblue for their help.  
> I've also just gone back over all the chapters and changed the formatting slightly. This fic should now be easier to read on e-reader ^_^

After the stunning revelation that Gaia is part of the Māori pantheon, the call doesn’t take much longer.   Usually they would have a _Thing_ about it right away but Ingrid convinced them to give Axl some time first. Mitchell suggests some ways to keep safe from the God Hunters although Anders can’t tell if Mike will bother using any of them. Usually Mike is all about keeping their family safe: right up until something bad happens to Anders. Then it’s his own fault and he should use it as a ‘learning experience’. Finally Mitchell hangs up the phone with a sigh. He slumps back into the couch for a long moment before turning to look at Anders.

 “I should probably go,” the Irishman says sadly. “I’m really sorry, I’d meant to find a way to tell you about myself before this went so far... I know what I am and I know I should have given you a chance to change your mind before this. I’m a killer, you saw that today, and I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to see me again...” Anders wants to protest this, but even if he could speak he thinks the words would stick in his throat at the look of absolute loss he sees in Mitchell’s eyes. “I’m going to leave your apartment now, and I promise I won’t seek you out. If you decide that you can’t handle this I won’t blame you. You’ll never see me again. I really do care about you though. It was never my intention to hurt you.” He studies Anders’ face for a long moment before evidently finding what he was looking for. Mitchell leans in and gives the blond a kiss so gentle that it almost makes his eyes well up before standing and walking to the door.

Before he opens it, he pauses and turns back to the man still sitting stunned on the couch. “Even if I never see you again, I will always remember you, Anders Johnson. Thank you. And I hope you will call me. I promise to give you the full truth of any questions you ask.”

 Just as the door closes behind the other man, Anders finally snaps out of his mild stupor enough to rise up from the couch. He stretches out his hand as if to stop Mitchell, but he’s already gone and Anders can’t call out to him.

 The loss of his voice is an incredibly strange feeling. It’s almost as if he has burnt out his connection to Bragi by forcing too much power along it at once. The usual comforting golden buzz from the god in the back of his mind is almost gone and he feels incredibly drained. His best guess as to why he’s lost his voice is that it’s because his voice is linked to the power he gets from the god. Actually, thinking about it Anders can recall other occasions when he’s used more power than usual and went a bit hoarse. He’d always written it off as being from too much talking. Whatever the reason though, he wants his voice to return soon. He really needs to talk to Mitchell.

 Mitchell...he can’t deny feeling a moment of absolute terror when he’d seen Mitchell’s eyes go black and fangs descend. It was quickly trumped by the much more immediate concern of Natalie. It was telling of Mitchell’s true nature though that he’d stopped just because Anders had asked him to, even though he hadn’t used Bragi. The blond had also noticed the relief in the black eyes that quickly shifted back to hazel, relief that he may not have to kill her. Anders should probably have felt horror or fear that the brunet was so quick to go for the killing blow, but he couldn’t deny that he actually felt somewhat warmed by the idea that someone was willing to do so to protect him.

 He can also admit, at least to himself, that being at least partially in control of the situation had helped. Anders’ brain had initially shut down in fear when Natalie burst in with the crossbow, just stammering whatever came to mind. It was only when Mitchell had disarmed her so she couldn’t attack Anders physically that his confidence started to come back. Her words may have hurt, but words were _his_ weapon. He’s just glad they worked in the end, that no one had to die today.

 Anders comes back to himself and realizes he’s still standing next to the couch while he’s been thinking. He’s shaking with the after effects of the adrenaline rush that the day has turned into. Usually that would lead into drinking himself into oblivion or going out to find a willing body to fuck, but he doesn’t want to turn back into that person. He’s finally started to get away from that. Instead, the blond drags a chair over from his kitchen table to sit in front of his fish. He allows the familiar sight to sooth him down from his adrenaline high. As his shaking subsides, he slumps back into his chair and thinks about what’s next.

 Obviously the first thing on his list is to talk to Mitchell. Well, as soon as he can talk anyways.   Actually...he retrieves his cell from the coffee table and stares at it for a time, thinking about texting the Irishman. He finally decides on one short message. It’s not fair to have this discussion through something as impersonal as a text. _I’m not afraid of you_ , it reads. _I want to talk just as soon as my voice comes back_.

  _I’ll be waiting. Thank you_ , is the message he gets in response.

 The next thing he thinks of is that he needs to get in touch with Axl. He may not have thought much of Gaia, but he knows Axl was in love with her and he’s starting to understand what that feels like. He can’t even imagine how much pain Axl must be feeling knowing that his love is promised to someone else through prophecy. And that Axl himself must still find Frigg if he doesn’t want to bring catastrophe to New Zealand. Anders resolves to try to take on a little more of the search himself so Axl doesn’t have to. And to try more than just shoving him at random women in the hopes that one of them would turn out to be Frigg. The rumour about the treasure from the Hofding was actually pretty clever, maybe he should try something like that again. It’s too bad that Dawn can’t be told about the whole god thing, she would probably be a brilliant help...

 Finally, there’s what to do about the other God Hunters. Anders thinks he’s bought them some time with what he did today. But they’ll still have to confront them sooner rather than later. He’d much prefer that the next confrontation be on the god’s terms. He grabs his laptop and pulls up the church website, making a few quick notes before he finds himself yawning. He and Mitchell had been up late the night before, and although he’d slept in a little, the confrontations of the day have left him drained. Anders shrugs to himself and decides to have a nap. There’s not much he can do until he regains his voice anyways. He expects it to take a long time to fall asleep after the tension from being attacked, but instead he falls asleep almost as soon as his head hits the pillow.

 When Anders wakes up, long hours later, he stares at the ceiling for awhile before realizing that he can feel Bragi more strongly again. He glances at the clock briefly and notices that it’s almost 2am, over twelve hours since Natalie walked through the door. He tests his voice cautiously, thinking that he might still be silent, but to his great joy he can speak again. Anders starts dialling Mitchell’s number before he can stop to think that it might not be a good time to call. The phone rings a few times and the blond is about to hang up when he hears Mitchell’s sleep roughened voice answer.

 “Mmm, Anders? ”

 “I have my voice back!” he whisper-shouts in response. His voice is still quite hoarse but he can’t wait any longer.

 Mitchell sounds much more awake. “That’s fantastic!”

 “Yeah. So, can you come over now?”

 “Are you...are you sure you want me to? ...I know you said you weren’t afraid, but... And you have every right to be angry with me for not telling you my secret sooner.”

 “Technically you still haven’t told me your secret,” Anders goes for teasing but Mitchell immediately starts to apologize. He cuts him off before he can get much farther than ‘I’m sorry’. “It’s fine, Mitchell. You’re not the only one with a secret. Come over and we’ll talk.”

 “I’ll be there soon,” Mitchell says before a long pause. “Thank you,” comes much softer before the brunet hangs up. It’s the second time Mitchell has thanked him for talking to him, and Anders isn’t used to the way that feels. Usually it’s him who has to be grateful for someone bothering to give him the time of day after something goes wrong. He’s in the position now to feel powerful at the deference, but at the same time he doesn’t want Mitchell to feel that Anders is being generous in asking him to come over. The brunet has never been anything but kind to Anders, he’s so much more than just the killer he’d named himself.

 Anders would swear that he only zoned out for a moment, but he hears shuffling in front of his door far faster than he’d thought Mitchell could get there. He waits for a knock, but gets impatient when one doesn’t come. Rather than waiting any longer, he gets up and yanks open the door.

He was correct in guessing that it was Mitchell at the door, but the other man looks even more dishevelled than he would have expected for being woken up. He’s clearly wearing the shirt he slept in, his pants aren’t zipped, and his leather jacket was thrown on haphazardly. It also seems that he hadn’t bothered to do anything to tame his curly hair, as it’s even more tousled and windblown than usual. The brunet looks up with wide, startled eyes at the abrupt opening of the door, and Anders has a hard time believing that this man is the same who had almost killed a woman not ten feet from where they’re currently standing.

 “Anders! Umm, you...invited me?” Mitchell sounds hesitant as he says this. The blond doesn’t mean to, but he chuckles a little at his wide-eyed look.

 “I did indeed,” he responds when Mitchell’s head ducks again at the laugh. He reaches out and grabs the other man by the wrist, tugging him into his apartment as he says, “so come in. I don’t know what you thought you were doing, pacing in my hallway.”

 The brunet laughs nervously as he allows himself to be dragged over to the couch. “I –uh, I was kind of afraid that it was a dream, you asking me over.”

 “No dream. I just really wanted to talk to you now that I can speak again,” Anders says, still barely louder than a whisper, but audible. Both of them want to speak to the other, but for a moment that stretches out in the silence, neither says anything. It’s awkward in a way they haven’t been since Anders sat down on the plane and bashed Mitchell in the head with his elbow. For once the blond is trying to be tactful, but it’s hard to find a good way to ask someone what the hell they are. He’s never been on this side of that conversation before (and don’t ask him about the time he was on the other side, it didn’t go well.) By this point Mitchell is shifting uncomfortably on the couch beside him. The Irishman is clearly still hesitant about his welcome, but is probably itching to ask his own questions.

 “Does that happen often, you losing your voice?” Mitchell finally blurts out. He’s been clearly trying to hold back and let Anders ask the first question but couldn’t stand the silence any longer. The blond doesn’t really mind though. Someone has to start the conversation.

 “Actually, it’s never happened before. I’ve gone a bit hoarse, but that could easily have been from talking too much,” he answers easily, somewhat self-deprecating when he mentions how much he talks.

 “And that’s got something to do with...you and the crazy woman both said something about gods?”

 “Norse gods actually.”

 “Ok,” Mitchell nods at this explanation initially, but as soon as it sinks in he stares at the blond with wide eyes. “Wait, you’re _actually_ a **god**?”

 Anders has to laugh, Mitchell’s reaction is too funny after all the stress of the past day. “Bragi, god of poetry, at your service.” He gives a mocking half bow from his seat on the couch.  Pausing for full dramatic effect he waits for the brunet to say something, but Mitchell just stares.   He gets impatient quickly and continues. “It’s more accurate to say that we’re something like a vessel or an avatar for the god. We each have abilities from our gods though. My words bend mortals to my will.”

 “So that’s why the psycho Christian did what you told her to,” Anders can see the moment when his explanation clicks into place for Mitchell. “I guess that’s why sometimes it sounds like you’re mumbling. It makes me feel a little odd when you do that, but I haven’t felt the need to obey you or anything.”

 The blond smirks when he hears the remark that could easily be taken as an innuendo, although for once he lets the opportunity for comment pass. “I would try to see if my powers work on you because I’m curious but they’re currently out of order. I pulled too much power at once and overloaded the connection or something. I would like to know if they _would_ work on you though, so I guess you’ll just have to stick around.” He hopes that the reminder that Anders still wants him around will calm Mitchell down a little.

 “So, I’ve told you about my thing. What’s up with the black eyes and that?”

 Mitchell casts his eyes down at the question, hunching in on himself again. He’d started to straighten up and become more like his usual self while Anders was talking, but now that he has to give his own explanation...

 Despite his discomfort he answers readily enough. “I’m a vampire.” Anders waits a few moments for more, but it seems like he’ll have to probe for more information.

 “Ok, I get why you’d have fangs then. But why do your eyes go black?” He wants to draw Mitchell out more, but he’s also genuinely curious.

 “It’s kind of like infrared actually, seeing heat. The filters let me see better in the dark and that kind of vision helps detect where blood is closest to the surface, where it’s best to feed from. I have no idea how it works though, my eyes and teeth were completely normal before I was turned.”

 “Turned? So you haven’t always been a vampire?” Somehow Anders had always thought that vampires were born or something. If they were real at all.

 “No, I was made a vampire after another one fed off me. Rather than killing me, he decided to recruit me. He had been a vampire for a long time and was the head of a fairly large group. Actually, it was the man I’d mentioned to you as to why I was moving. For some reason Herrick was oddly obsessed with me, it’s only after he was killed that I felt free to leave. ”

 “How long is a long time? For that matter, how old are you?” The blond had thought that Mitchell was around his mid-twenties, but he’s having to re-evaluate that. And this vampire being obsessed with Mitchell sounds ominous. Anders is glad to hear that he’s dead and doesn’t really want to ask for more details just yet.

 “Herrick was three hundred something when he turned me. I’m one hundred and nineteen now.”

 Anders thought that Mitchell might be older, but he hadn’t been expecting to hear that it was by that much. He has to laugh though at a sudden thought. “I’ll have to introduce you to Olaf then.”

 The vampire clearly hadn’t been prepared for laughter being the response to this revelation. “And Olaf is your cousin? Why would you need to introduce me to him?”

 “He’s not my cousin, he’s my grandfather. He’s almost as old as you are, but he still looks twenty something. We just tell people he’s my cousin because otherwise it would be too weird.” They sit in silence for a moment while Mitchell processes that.

 “So, is that because of his god?”

 “He’s Baldr, god of rebirth. He still ages, just very slowly,” Anders pauses a moment as he remembers Olaf’s rapid aging when Axl was sick. He never wants to see Olaf that frail and old again. “So how did Herrick come across you, when you were made a vampire?”

 “It was on a battlefield in France. Me and my men were on a patrol out from the trenches when we came across a small copse of trees that hadn’t yet been destroyed in the shelling and we heard noises. We thought it might be some Germans, but when we went to investigate, it was Herrick and some other vampires. They’d already killed most of our patrol...” Mitchell halts for a moment, running a hand through his hair at the memories. “I don’t know what Herrick saw in me, but he offered me a deal. If I let him recruit me he would spare the rest of my unit. Sometimes I wish that I’d turned him down, but then I think about the rest of them. A few of my unit actually made it home because of that deal. I think one of them even named his kid after me.”

 The god is stunned at what he’s hearing. The kind of courage it would take to make that kind of sacrifice? He knows that Mitchell would have had no idea what he was really agreeing to, just grabbing at straws to save his men from a threat they hadn’t been prepared to face.

 “How old were you?” he asks, even more quietly than his voice is currently allowing.

 “Almost twenty-four,” the brunet responds, equally quiet. “I thought I was dead until I woke up a day later on top of a pile of bodies.”

 “That’s more and less dramatic than when I got my powers,” Anders says almost to himself.

* * *

“When you got your powers? So you weren’t born as a god or a vessel or whatever?” Mitchell latches on eagerly to Anders’ story, wanting to divert himself from his own memories. He’ll keep to his word and tell Anders whatever he asks, but he hopes he doesn’t have to do it all at once. He especially doesn’t want to admit how many he’s killed. The Kiwi has taken the revelation about him being a vampire remarkably well. Mitchell doesn’t want his bodycount to ruin all chances of a relationship between them. He should just confess to all his sins upfront, but despite his good intentions, he’s still selfish enough to hope that Anders won’t ask.

“No, we aren’t born with our powers. I mean we might show some signs of which god we’ll belong to, but no actual abilities. Apparently our mother was certain I was going to be Bragi before she fucked off to become a tree.” Anders meant to continue, but Mitchell interrupts him there.

 “What?! Your mother left to become a tree? I thought you said she was the one who sent you to Norway?”

The god sighs before trying to explain his fucked up family. “After Mike’s ceremony to become the vessel of his god, Mom said she couldn’t take any more of raising us. She walked off into the forest to become a tree and left _Mike_ to raise us,” he says bitterly. Mitchell can tell there’s more to the story but now’s not the time to ask about that. “Apparently after a few years she got bored of being a tree and took an opportunity when it presented itself to hop into another body. She didn’t show herself to us again until recently. While I was in Norway though some nasty stuff happened and she’s gone again.”

 Anders’ story is noticeably scarce on details, but it’s enough for now. “What sort of ceremony is it, to become the vessel of a god?” Mitchell grew up in Catholic Ireland so all he can think of is the kind of heathen abomination they were warned about at church.

 “I called it a ceremony, but mostly it was Mike dragging me into the woods and handing me a sword. He set up a circle of stones, pushed me into the middle, and told me to point the sword at the sky. One lightning bolt later and I’m Bragi,” Anders explains matter-of-factly. Mitchell is distracted by the lightning bolt comment until the blond adds, “I still wish he’d told me to take off my clothes first. Bastard. I liked that jacket.”

The brunet chokes, “why...”

 Anders interrupts before he can finish the thought. “Because lightning plus clothes does not end well. I still have a bit of a scar from not getting my fiery trousers off fast enough. Plus, then I had to get home with no clothes. I was just lucky that Mike had a blanket in the truck. Of course he thought it was hilarious,” he grumbles bitterly. “Cock.”

 Mitchell doesn’t mean to, but he can’t help giggling a little at that image. It’s a relief to laugh after the stresses of the day and he finds he can’t stop. After a few moments where Anders glares at him while he tries to suppress his giggles, the god finds himself laughing as well. The two of them giggle on the couch for a long time as every time one of them comes close to being able to stop, they look at the other and start again. Mitchell finds himself almost in tears by the time he finally ceases, and it would be painful if he actually needed to breathe.

 He looks up to see Anders in a similar state, but despite that the other man is grinning at him full and bright with dimples on full display. The vampire feels warmth spreading through him that despite his nature and the display earlier, the Kiwi can still smile at him. It’s the smile that allows him the courage to lean over and wrap an arm around the other man. Anders stiffens initially at the touch and Mitchell quickly moves to pull away, worried that he’d misunderstood. That the blond isn’t afraid of him, but still doesn’t want to go back to the previous intimacy they’d shared. His fears are quickly allayed when Anders relaxes into his touch with a sigh.

 The two men lounge on the couch like that for some time, both enjoying the return to their previous ease with each other. There is still more to be discussed, but they don’t have to hash out every detail of their past or their future all in one night.

 Their talk has gone well into the night however and Mitchell is startled at first when Anders yawns, then notices that it’s past 4am. “I should be off home love, let you get back to sleep.” He doesn’t even notice the endearment has slipped out until he sees Anders’ eyes widen, but doesn’t try to take it back. After a moment, blue eyes soften and Anders nods.

 “I should get back to sleep, yes.” The blond stretches carefully before standing. He offers a hand to Mitchell still seated on the couch. “Rather than going home though, I think you should come with me.”

 Mitchell wants to ask if he’s sure, but can read the certainty in the god’s eyes.  He takes the offered hand and follows the other man to bed.

 Anders quickly succumbs to sleep, but despite his exhaustion Mitchell lays awake awhile longer. He had been worried that the Kiwi would have trouble believing his story but it’s the vampire who’s having a hard time understanding what he’s heard. Sure, he’s met ghosts and werewolves before, obviously; but gods? It’s not that he doesn’t believe Anders, it’s that he does. Despite his strength Mitchell feels insignificant compared to the blond. All he can do is kill, while the other man only has to speak to have others do his bidding. Sure it has a cost, but it seems insignificant compared to what being a vampire has taken from the brunet. Even still, he can see that the blond has had painful experiences of his own.

 Mitchell curls around the warm body he’s sharing the bed with. He’s enjoying Anders’ warmth, and he finds himself truly hoping that their relationship will continue. Even if he is insignificant compared to the god, he is starting to care deeply for the other man. As he finally drifts off to sleep, he resolves to enjoy whatever time they have together. The vampire just hopes that this time it won’t be his condition that makes things go wrong.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read, commented, or left kudos on the last chapter. You guys are all fantastic, and I'm happy so many people are still reading this story. Thanks as always to TheGreenSorceress and datsunblue for looking things over for me.

Anders wakes slowly, for once taking the chance to enjoy the reflected warmth from the man curled around him in bed. This morning he feels no need to get away from the arms holding him down, or to kick yet another conquest out of his bed before he can get close to them. Despite knowing that Mitchell is a vampire, he also understands his true nature. He could hear the shame in the brunet’s voice last night as he confessed to his sins, and he knows there’s more yet that he’s not been told. But he also knows that Mitchell would never hurt him if he could help it, and that the vampire is trying to claw his way back to humanity. The blond feels truly safe around another person for the first time since he was fairly young. He knows the brunet won’t be looking for him to screw up just to have the chance to throw past mistakes back in Anders’ face.

From the light filtering through the curtains, Anders can tell that it’s still early, but he feels well rested. Between his lengthy nap yesterday and curling up with Mitchell he’s had more than enough. Rather than try to fall back to sleep, he carefully turns in the vampire’s arms to study the man sharing his bed. For once Mitchell feels warm to the touch, and Anders finally has an explanation for why he was always cool before. Aside from that, the first thing he notices is how young the Irishman looks when he’s asleep. His heavy brows aren’t furrowed in that incredibly intense expression he tends to fall into when he’s not smiling. If it weren’t for the dark stubble along his jaw he would look even younger.

" _That’s probably why he keeps it,”_ Anders muses, brushing his lips along it gently. Mitchell doesn’t seem to care much about his physical appearance as far as Anders can tell from his eclectic wardrobe. He wonders if the Irishman had been the same way when he was human. Christ, he had only been twenty-three when Herrick had ‘recruited’ him? Anders supposes he had been two years younger when Bragi’s spirit had possessed him, but for all the trouble the god had caused him, it was still worlds better than being turned into a monster. And at the mercy of a greater monster if he was reading the few hints Mitchell had dropped about Herrick correctly.

Anders feels a surge of compassion for what the vampire had experienced, but strangely thinking of it also gave him hope. Mitchell had experienced over ninety years of horror as a vampire; but still was a man who tried to be kind and gentle despite his past. Anders had different experiences of abuse, but surely he could work passed it the same way? He and his Irishman could help each other.

He smiles softly at the thought, returning to his study of the other man. He admires his strong bone structure and soft lips, and admits to himself he has little difficulty imagining why Herrick would be obsessed with him. Mitchell’s pink lips are parted as he breathes softly and a small amount of drool has escaped from the corner of his mouth, but fortunately he doesn’t seem to snore. Anders wonders if vampires actually need to breathe, or if it’s just a Mitchell thing to do so. If they don’t need to, that certainly gives the blond some ideas...

It seems his body is quick to warm up to the idea as he feels the burn of arousal deep in his gut as he slowly hardens. Mitchell’s soft breaths against his neck and the occasional gentle movement as he shifts in his sleep aren’t helping either. As much as Anders has enjoyed drawing this out and taking things slowly, at this point he’s desperate for a good hard fuck. The slow burn has been much more pleasurable than just hopping into bed for a day or two with a random partner, but at the same time he’s not been so wound up and left to take care of himself since he turned twenty-one. The god really hopes that Mitchell had wanted to take it slow because of the vampire thing and would be amenable to speeding up a bit.

He can feel Bragi bubbling in the back of his mind again, not back up to full strength yet, but certainly strong enough for a bit of suggestion on a willing recipient. But despite his curiosity if the god’s words will work on a vampire, this isn’t the right time to test that. What he has with Mitchell is _real_. He wants them to fuck because they both want it. Not because of the god tipping the balance.

Because despite what he knows his brothers think, that really is all he uses his words to do with those who share his bed. He never makes any promises aside from a good fuck, a night or two of fun. Mostly Bragi is used to compliment them, make them feel good about themselves. Unfortunately mortals are undeniably drawn to the god of poetry and it’s resulted in things going badly for Anders more than once. Even with people he hasn’t slept with.

Axl had run into three examples of former conquests like that the night he and Zeb had broken into Anders’ apartment. Yes, Anders had slept with them, but all three had approached him first. And it hadn’t been his idea to keep Kylie in bed through her wedding. He’d been too drugged to defend himself to Axl that day, especially since he could tell his big little brother wouldn’t believe him anyways. Learned well from Mike, that one. Besides, Anders didn’t want to tell mighty Odin what had happened on previous occasions...

Forcefully jerking his thoughts back from that precipice, Anders realizes that a pair of sleepy hazel eyes are studying him in return.

“Morning,” Mitchell mumbles hoarsely, smiling. “That’s a pretty serious face you’re wearing there for so early. Not having second thoughts?” He tries to play it off as a joke, but Anders hears the hesitance.

“Anything but,” Anders responds, closing the short distance to whisper directly against the other’s lips. He feels the smile spreading before he captures his mouth in a sweet kiss. He could do without the morning breath, but he’s too contented to bother with getting up to brush his teeth just yet. And because he’s still Anders, he tilts his hips forward so Mitchell can feels his hardness to further emphasize just how much he wants him here.

He’s blown away with the other’s response as the kiss immediately turns hungry and he’s pushed swiftly onto his back. The larger man pins him firmly to the bed with his body as he slots between Anders’ legs and grinds their erections together. It all happens too quickly for the blond to maintain his usual reserve, and he finds himself moaning into the filthy kiss as sparks of pleasure shoot along his nerves. He would normally protest the position, not having good memories of being held down, but he trusts Mitchell and it just feels so _good_. So instead of protesting, he moves enough to free a hand to tangle in the brunet’s curly locks and lets himself just _feel._

And then as quickly as he was pinned, the pressure is gone. Anders has to take a moment to recollect his scattered thoughts before he realizes that Mitchell is across the room. He opens his mouth to snarl at the other man for interrupting what was looking to be fantastic sex before he really sees him.

Mitchell has pressed himself into a corner across the room and looks so miserable and _scared_ that all of Anders’ anger leaves him.

“What’s wrong?” Anders asks simply. It’s his turn to be hesitant as he adds, “did...did _I_ do something?”

Mitchell looks even more startled at this thought. “No! No, of course not.” He shakes his head, messy curls tumbling into his eyes, hiding behind them as he curls into himself. “It’s nothing you did. It’s me...” he seems about to continue, but Anders reaches out a hand.

“Come back here. No need to hide across the room.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you knew what I’ve done.” Nevertheless, Mitchell picks himself up and walks back to the bed, sitting gingerly on the edge. In spite of the sudden serious mood, Anders can’t help but admire the long, lean lines of Mitchell’s frame. He had chosen to sleep in just his black boxer briefs, and Anders felt himself rousing again at all the gorgeous skin on display. The vampire has perfectly toned musculature and the trail of hair leading southward just begs to be investigated. What he really wants to do is press Mitchell to the bed and explore his body, but if he’s going to try a relationship he supposes he’d better do it properly.

“I think I still would,” he responds to Mitchell’s statement. “I know you’re a vampire, Mitchell, I know you’ve killed. Is it something to do with why you wanted to take it slow?”

Mitchell nods slowly. “For a vampire, sex and feeding tend to be connected...” He pauses for a long moment before continuing. “Because of that connection, when I let myself go during sex...sometimes people die. Or worse.” Anders wants to ask what would be worse, but doesn’t want to interrupt.

“The last woman I slept with, I fed on her without meaning to, then panicked and made her a vampire. It didn’t end well. She enjoyed the killing for awhile but eventually she asked me to kill her, before she lost everything of who she had been.” A tear drips slowly down Mitchell’s face as he speaks, voice choked from old grief. “I don’t...I don’t want to hurt you!”

“And... Is that why you jumped off earlier? You wanted to bite me?” Anders asks, not sure how to feel. He knows Mitchell is a vampire, but somehow he hadn’t yet thought about what would happen if Mitchell tried to bite _him_.

Before Anders can think too deeply about it, Mitchell is shaking his head. “No. No, I didn’t want to feed from you. But it was so intense that I was worried about letting myself go. I’m sorry about pinning you down like that.”

Anders lets himself grin wickedly at the surprised vampire. “I’m not. You’re right, that was incredibly intense. Fuck, I don’t think I’ve ever been that turned on.” He enjoys the answering feral grin at that admission. “Have you ever wanted to bite me?”

Mitchell sits back, finally relaxing against the pillows as he thinks. “Actually...no.” Mitchell sounds surprised by this realization. “This might sound creepy, but one of the first things I noticed about you was that despite how good you smelled, you don’t smell like food.” The god isn’t sure whether to find that creepy or not, but he has to admit that it’s convenient. “Maybe it’s because of the god thing. Werewolves don’t smell edible either.”

Anders definitely wants to know more about the werewolf thing, but that can definitely wait until later. Now that he’s gotten confirmation that he probably won’t be turned into a snack, he wants to get back to the sex. He pushes Mitchell further back against the pillows, moving to straddle his lap.

“Well, that’s settled then. I don’t smell like food, so we can get back to our previous activities,” he says, grinding into Mitchell’s groin to leave no doubt as to what he wants. The other man looks like he might protest despite the re-awakened erection Anders can feel against his own. But the blond halts any further argument by leaning in to whisper in his ear, “but if you feel yourself losing control, I’ve got some handcuffs under the bed.”

The god has a moment to savour the feeling of triumph as Mitchell throws his head back in a full throated laugh before he finds himself flipped back into the same position as before Mitchell’s little freakout. Gentle hands pin his arms beside his head as the brunet grins happily down at him.

“Handcuffs? A little kinky, hey mate?”

Anders smirks back. “More than a little,” he agrees. “But for now, this seems promising enough, as long as you actually get to doing something and don’t try to run scared again.”

If he’d intended to make any more smart remarks, they’re lost when Mitchell leans down and captures his mouth in another filthy, sloppy kiss. He licks into the Kiwi’s mouth, occasionally tangling their tongues. When he draws back to let Anders breathe, the blond can’t believe how aroused he is, even though they haven’t done anything yet. He feels his heartbeat pick up momentarily in fear as Mitchell shifts to kiss down his neck, but when he doesn’t feel more than a gentle bite with blunt, human teeth, his heart speeds up for an entirely different reason.

Anders tries to pull a hand free to tangle into the brunet’s hair again, but this time the hands aren’t moving and Anders can’t compete with vampiric strength. Rather than try further, he relaxes into the other man’s strength. Letting himself go to just feel soon seems like the best idea he’s ever had. Mitchell’s exploration of his chest and nipples draws out moans and other noises he didn’t know he was capable of making. A gentle nip to one manages to pull a high keen from his throat, and Mitchell pauses to grin up at him before teasingly repeating the action. The vampire soothes the sting by laving his tongue over the nub, and Anders can’t help but arch up into the attention.

The blond tenses in anticipation as Mitchell releases his nipple to move further down, taking the time to map out all his erogenous zones with that lovely mouth as the brunet goes. Anders is hard and leaking in his boxer briefs as Mitchell explores the hollow below his ribs with licks and nips. He’s never realized he was so sensitive there. He bucks up with a startled shout when the brunet teasingly swirls his tongue into the dip of his bellybutton, not sure how to react to that sensation.

He can’t help but let out a long moan when Mitchell drags his hands down so Mitchell can comfortably hover over his groin. The vampire grins wickedly up at him as he bends to suck a mark onto Anders’ hipbone. The blond again tries to free a hand so he can relieve some of the aching pressure in his cock, but Mitchell just holds on as he continues to tease him by scraping his teeth over the bones, and licking into the creases beside his groin. Anders tries to shift to move his mouth where he really wants it, but that just makes Mitchell draw out his attentions for longer.

The brunet finally takes pity on him when Anders feels like he’s going to burst from how aroused he is. He quickly lets go of one of Anders’ hands long enough to tear off his underwear before reclaiming it. The blond heard seams tearing and is pretty sure they’re ruined, but he couldn’t care less because Mitchell has finally swallowed his cock down and _oh god_ , it seems Anders had been right about him not needing to breathe.

Anders’ mind goes blissfully blank for long moments while Mitchell continues to work his cock. It seems that the vampire doesn’t have a gag reflex either as he swallows around Anders’ length; the pressure from his throat muscles flexing around the head drawing a helpless moan from Anders’. He alternates with teasing licks and swirls around the head, sometimes dipping his tongue into the slit. Anders feels close to coming embarrassingly quickly, but Mitchell changes things up enough to keep him riding the edge without tipping over.

Finally Mitchell pulls off his cock with a pop. “Condoms and lube?” he asks with a voice hoarse from having Anders so deep in his throat. The blond gets impossibly harder, and it takes him long moments before he can answer the question.

“Top drawer, left side,” jerking his head to indicate the correct direction.

Mitchell uses a little of his vampiric speed to grab them and get back into position before the god has much of a chance to gather his wits. He bends back down to mouth at Anders’ length as he slicks his fingers with the lube. Before he swallows the blond again though, he pauses to ask, “are you alright with me topping right now?”

Anders nods happily, pleased to be asked and at the insinuation that Mitchell doesn’t expect to top every time. Before he can say anything though, his voice catches on a moan when he’s again swallowed to the root. A moment later he feels a lube slick finger begin to massage around his hole. It’s been a long time since he was on the bottom, and he knows he’ll be tight but as Mitchell gently works the first finger past the ring of muscle, the mouth on his cock distracts from the slight burn. Soon even that small hurt is gone as Mitchell carefully works him open around that finger.

The blond pants in pleasure, finally realizing that his hands are free he winds one into Mitchell’s hair and tears at the sheets with the other. He wants another finger, but knows that if he speaks now it will come out pleading rather than as a demand. He’s not dropped his guard enough that he’s willing to beg. Although he thinks that begging thing might change as the brunet’s long finger finally brushes against his prostate. As he arches off the bed in pleasure, one strong hand moves to hold his hips down as a second finger works into him. This one burns a little as well, but the sting does nothing to detract from the fantastic sensations zinging across his nerves. Anders feels so _close_ as careful fingers stretch him open while Mitchell’s talented mouth keeps him strung tight on the edge. He’s almost sobbing with his need to come when Mitchell pulls off a second time.

“Do you want to come before I fuck you? Or should I keep going?” he asks casually, as if his fingers aren’t still tormenting the blond writhing under him.

“Hnng, just fuck me already!” Anders pants. He wants to come so badly, but the way Mitchell is keeping him riding the edge is just too perfect.

He can tell Mitchell is drawing the moment out, the bastard. He’s grinning as he tears open the condom package with his teeth and rolls it on, still teasing Anders with the fingers buried inside. He makes one final brush across his prostate before pulling them out. Anders can feel his entrance clenching around nothing as Mitchell takes a moment to slick his cock. Rather than plead to be filled though, he pulls the other man into a messy kiss, more tongues and teeth than anything. Then _finally_ he feels the brunet line up and slide home.

It’s uncomfortable at first, it’s been such a long time, and Mitchell is larger than anyone he’s allowed to top him before. But Mitchell goes slowly, rocking in carefully, then pausing to grind in deep. Before long he’s panting into the kiss, tilting his hips up to meet the thrusts. Mitchell knows just how to play his body, kissing down his neck to bite his collarbone gently and exploiting that hollow below his ribcage.

He’s starting to get close again when Mitchell shifts, drawing one of Anders’ legs up and changing the angle of his thrusts so that every stroke brushes past the blond’s prostate. He reaches his other hand to gently stroke Anders’ cock and in moments Anders is gasping through the best orgasm he’s ever had as his vision goes blank. He feels Mitchell’s hips stutter against his and hears the other man moan as he comes hard as well.

Neither man moves for long moments, both panting heavily and wrung out from powerful orgasms. Eventually Mitchell’s cock softens within Anders, so he grabs the base of the condom and pulls out gently, the blond wincing at the squelching noise and unpleasant feeling of emptiness. He’s too fucked out to do more than flop his limbs down when Mitchell moves from the bed, staring at the ceiling in lingering bliss. He is pleased however when the other returns with a damp cloth to gently clean Anders of sticky residue from come and lube. Mitchell moves to take it back to the bathroom, but Anders overrules him.

“Nope, c’mere. Just chuck the cloth over there somewhere,” flaps an arm carelessly in the general direction of the door. “’S time for a post-sex nap before we have to go deal with my brothers.” Anders doesn’t do cuddling, as a rule, but it’s not really cuddling if they both just happen to be in the same bed after fantastic sex, is it? Appeased by his logic, he tugs Mitchell down to lay beside him. The other man doesn’t seem inclined to argue, curling up and swiftly falling back to sleep.

Anders lingers awake for some time longer. The sex this morning had been fantastic, but he can’t stop thinking about the possibilities with the handcuffs. And maybe a blindfold. It had turned him on so much that day on the beach, Mitchell’s trust to lead him. Mmm, Mitchell handcuffed to the bed, blindfolded and at Anders’ mercy. Begging to get off?

He’d have to see about talking Mitchell into it... 

* * *

When Anders wakes for the second time that day, it’s with a start as he doesn’t remember having fallen asleep again. It seems like only moments since he was drifting to pleasant fantasies of Mitchell. His vague sense of alarm solidifies when he glances at the clock and realizes he doesn’t have long before the _Thing_ to discuss what happened at the goddess ceremony.

He looks affectionately over at the man beside him. This time Mitchell is sprawled out, long limbs splayed in every direction and hair an absolute mess. Actually, the blond isn’t quite sure how he still fit with Mitchell taking up so much space. Anders almost goes for waking him gently, but then remembers he owes the brunet for tickling him on the beach. He digs his fingers into the vampire’s sides and Mitchell startles awake with a loud squeak, flailing about and almost falling off the bed in the process, while Anders sits back and laughs.

When Mitchell manages to get himself settled back on the bed, there’s a long moment of blinking disorientation before his eyes settle on the blond. Anders can almost see the pieces clicking into place and decides to make a strategic retreat, moving towards the bathroom to start getting ready. He realizes that he hasn’t moved quickly enough when a feral grin stretches across Mitchell’s face. Almost faster than he can follow, the vampire is across the room and Anders is caught in his arms.

He has a brief moment to feel like he’s escaped retaliation when initially Mitchell just holds him and smiles affectionately down, but then the smile sharpens and Anders feels fingers gently rake across his sides.

“So you think it’s a good idea to wake a bloke up by poking at him?”

Anders squirms and laughs helplessly, unable to break free of Mitchell’s gentle but inexorable hold. “So-sorry,” he gasps out haltingly.

“Mmm, I don’t think you’re really sorry yet.”

“No- _o!_ Sorry. We nee-ed to leave!” Mitchell stops tickling at that, but Anders can feel his fingers poised to continue. “That family meeting starts soon,” the blond adds when he has the breath to do so.

“And...did you want me to come?” Mitchell asks, releasing Anders.

“Of course! Unless...you don’t want to?” Anders has a moment of doubt that Mitchell will want to involve himself further in Anders’ life, especially with all the god shit.

“No, I want to. It’s just, you said it was a family thing...”

“Axl’s dickhead flatmate shows up to half of these, and Mike and Olaf bring the people they’re seeing. Why shouldn’t I?” Mitchell’s smile at that lights up the room, and Anders feels a warm glow that he’s been able to make someone so happy. Turning slightly more serious, he continues, “besides which, you already know about the whole god thing. You were here yesterday to help me deal with Natalie... Did I actually thank you for that yet? Because you saved my life.”

“You never have to thank me for saving your life, Anders. Thank you for preventing me from needing to kill her.”

“You’re welcome,” Anders responds cockily before breaking into a grin. They both laugh, tension broken, and go to start getting ready for the day.

Anders finds he was correct about the damage to his underwear when he finally manages to locate them. The side seams are destroyed and there’s a few holes from where Mitchell’s fingers tore through the fabric. He’s actually dumbfounded by how much damage was done without him noticing, and is thankful Mitchell is much better at restraining his strength against people.

“Hey, Dracula,” he calls out, wadding them into a ball to chuck at Mitchell’s head. “You owe me a new pair of pants.”

Mitchell looks up from where he was tugging on his own boxer briefs, and Anders manages to hit him right in the face. One hand reflexively comes up to catch the sad bundle before it falls on the floor, and a sheepish look spreads across his face as he realizes what he’s holding.

“Sorry mate. I will get you a new pair though.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. Just be more careful in the future, aye?”

Mitchell nods in agreement and they both continue getting ready for this meeting. The brunet has to borrow some toiletries from Anders as he was hardly prepared to stay the night. Anders also manages to find Mitchell a shirt to borrow. It fits a little tight, but Anders isn’t going to complain about the view. It’s just fortunate that Mitchell had thrown on jeans before dashing over the previous night.

When they move into the bathroom to wash up a bit, Anders gets another surprise about vampires. Mitchell catches his startled look and responds, “yeah, we don’t have reflections. That part of the lore is correct.”

Clearly Anders is going to have to sit down with Mitchell at some point and work out what is and isn’t true about vampires. For now though, “so you haven’t seen yourself since you were turned?” Mitchell nods, and the blond can’t help but think that certainly explains his fashion sense. It also sets Bragi off in the back of his head and makes his fingers itch for a pencil, to show Mitchell himself.

“Well, that explains a lot,” Anders says, gently teasing. Mitchell pushes him in retaliation and both men chuckle. Finally they’re ready to go, exchanging a deep kiss at the threshold.

“You’re alright?” Mitchell asks quietly. “I wasn’t too rough or anything?” Anders raises an eyebrow, not really understanding until a hand slides down to cup his arse.

He actually hadn’t thought about having any difficulty, so he has to pause a moment and take stock of how he feels. There’s definitely no soreness, but a slight ache lingers. It’s more a reminder of their activities than actual pain. “No, I’m fine.” He leans in closer to Mitchell’s ear. “When I fuck you, you’re going to feel me for _days._ ”

Anders can see the heat in Mitchell’s eyes at the challenge, and thinks that he may not have such a difficult time convincing him to go for the handcuff thing. Still, that’s a thought for later. He turns and leads the way to his car, trying not to let on that he’d gotten half-hard from his own tease.

* * *

 Anders can’t help but feel some of his newfound happiness fade as he and Mitchell walk hand in hand toward Mike’s bar. His shoulders hunch in and he allows the other man’s hand to slip from his grasp as he feels that old shame about who he is and what he wants wash over him. It had been instilled over years by his father and sometimes mother first, and then Mike later on. Every time he heard his older brother sneer at a gay couple, or deride his masculinity, his resolve to never let his brothers realize that he swung both ways strengthens again. He can only hope that Mitchell understands that he has to introduce him just as a friend for now. His brothers are going to be bad enough about him having a friend, the blond just isn’t ready for them to find out he’s bi.

He and Mitchell walk into the bar, and Mike almost immediately makes him regret bothering to show up at all. “So nice of you to turn up today, Anders,” his older brother drawls sarcastically. Rather than respond to his older brother baiting him though, he looks around to see who else was there.

Axl is the first to catch his eye, slumped dispirited over his beer on the couch in the back. He looks like he couldn’t care less about being anywhere right now, and Anders can’t blame him. Ty is sitting nearby, looking like he wants to comfort Axl but isn’t sure how to in this situation. Evidently this was important enough for Mike to revoke his ‘banishment’ for inducing Hod to leave his body. Well, or someone else called him. That seems more likely.

Michele is leaning casually against the bar, pretending not to care what’s decided, although Anders can tell she’s watching everyone to see where her best interests lie. Anders still somewhat regrets losing his chance with her, although what he has with Mitchell promises to be much more lasting. Even though she makes alliances with whoever will benefit her the most at the time, she is stunning. He can’t believe Michele chose to hook up with Mike of all people though. He supposes it’s because she was aiming to piss off Colin.

Mike himself is still planted squarely in the middle of the floor, arms crossed while he waits for Anders to respond. He looks increasingly angry as Anders just nods and moves to one of the tall tables to the right of the bar, Mitchell following. Before Mike can say anything though, he’s distracted as Olaf, Stacey, and Ingrid all tumble through the doorway.

“Oh good! Everyone’s here already!” Olaf shouts, beaming at the bar’s occupants with his arms spread wide to welcome the gathering.

“ _Christ, Grandpa,_ ” Anders mutters under his breath. Olaf is clearly stoned already. He was hoping their family oracle would be in better shape for a discussion like this. And Ingrid is unlikely to be any better if she came with Olaf. The three newest arrivals seat themselves by the bar, immediately demanding drinks, although for once Mike manages to prevent them from pouring their own.

Anders tunes out for awhile, knowing that they’ll argue for some time before anything actually relevant gets discussed. He only comes back to the main conversation when Mike tries to throw Mitchell out of the bar.

“Thanks for giving me the heads up yesterday mate, but it’s time for you to leave. No mortals allowed in god business.”

“You’re welcome for the warning, but I’m not leaving. And as I told you, I’m not a mortal, strictly speaking.” Mike seems taken aback by the flat refusal, and his mouth gapes silently for a moment while he works out how to respond. Anders can tell though that this is probably going to get ugly as soon as Mike gets a hold of himself.

 “What do you mean you’re not a mortal? And who the fuck are you anyways? You call me yesterday saying you’re passing on a message from Anders, and now you show up in my bar and refuse to leave?” Mike steps towards Mitchell threateningly but the Irishman holds his ground. Anders knows that someone like Mitchell has little to fear from a builder turned barman, but he still steps between the two. At least he’s used to dealing with Mike’s temper.

 Indeed, Mike turns on him next. “And you! Why the bloody hell would you tell some guy you probably just met about our family? Christ!” He turns abruptly, running his hands roughly through his hair while pacing and muttering under his breath. Anders can hear enough to know it’s the usual insults about his character and manliness. He’s not sure if he’s glad or exasperated that it doesn’t even seem to cross his brother’s mind that he might have fucked Mitchell. If it was a girl who’d shown up with him, they all would have assumed that he’d rooted her or was about to.

 “It looks like I’m going to have to beat some caution into you once and for all,” Mike finally says, stepping towards Anders with violence written in every line of his body. Before he can take more than a single step towards his younger brother Mitchell is in front of him protectively, eyes flat black and fangs bared.

 “I would suggest you think again. Neither you nor anyone else is going to hurt Anders if I have anything to say about it.” Mitchell speaks calmly, but everyone in the bar with sense feels the shiver of fear from the presence of a predator. Everyone but Mike that is, who seems determined to maintain his bluster. Before either Mike or Anders can speak however, Ty intercedes.

 “Mike, enough! Mitchell isn’t what we need to be concerned about right now. From what I’ve seen he’s a pretty good guy. When Olaf called me though, he said that Gaia isn’t Frigg?”

All eyes turn to Axl at the reminder as to why they’re really there. Ingrid has moved to sit next to the youngest Johnson and is doing her best to comfort him, but it’s clear from his dejected posture and red-rimmed eyes that it’s not really working. Anders walks over to his little brother and puts his hand on his shoulder, trying to express all the sympathy he can’t put into words. Oh, he could certainly try, but even if he is the god of poetry, his brothers misunderstand his words more often than not. He only hopes that his actions won’t be misunderstood the same way.

 He may not have thought much of Gaia, but he knows Axl was in love with her and he’s starting to understand what that feels like. He can’t even imagine how much pain Axl must be feeling knowing that his love is promised to someone else through prophecy. And that Axl himself must still find Frigg if he doesn’t want to bring catastrophe to New Zealand.

 It’s Michele who finally breaks the silence that’s fallen. “So Gaia is Papatūānuku, big deal. It just means we’re going to have to look harder for the real Frigg.” Her attitude reminds Anders painfully of when they had made that mistake with Eva and she suggested Mike sacrifice himself to get Axl out of the contract. It’s ironic that she’s now dating Mike after she was so blithely ready to sacrifice him. She’s so much like the person Mike believes Anders himself to be. It hurts that Mike blames Anders for the same things he’s happy to put up with in Michele.

 Axl sinks further into himself at the bald statement. Anders can’t disagree with Michele on the basic points, but even _he_ would have worded that more gently.There’s dead silence for a long moment after Michele speaks, then all the other gods in the bar start speaking over each other, each trying to make a point. Anders just sighs and slouches into the seat on the other side of Axl. He notices that Mitchell is happy to fade into the background now that the confrontation is over. It’s something that he’s observed about the vampire, that he tries to avoid being the centre of attention if at all possible.

 Ty gets tired of the argument almost as soon as Anders does, and drifts over to his side. They watch silently as the arguing vessels sort themselves into three groups. Michele and Mike want Axl to start the quest again immediately, saying that it’s important to find the Frigg before anything else can mess with the quest. Ingrid and Stacey want the other two to show some compassion to Axl who has just lost someone he loves. And Olaf agrees with both sides in some ways but is more focussed on figuring out why Gaia belonged to the Māori pantheon when both prophecies seemed to be equally valid. His current theory has something to do with Gaia and Papatūānuku both representing the earth mother in their respective pantheons. Anders can’t really follow what he’s saying, even when Olaf is actually _being_ an oracle he tends not to make much sense.

 During a break in the conversation, Anders finally speaks up to ask a question that’s been bothering him since he got there. “Where’s Gaia? I mean, she’s the one who’s probably got the most information about this. And didn’t you all promise to support her no matter what happened?”

 “That’s...a very good point, Anders,” Olaf finally agrees. “Would you be willing to call and invite her here, Axl?”

 Mike immediately protests. “She’s part of the Māori pantheon though! Bad enough we’ve got a whatever he is,” gesturing to Mitchell, “here, you want to invite other gods?”

 “The Māori were here first, Mikkel,” Ingrid responds. “If they’re going to be fully powered up with Papatūānuku and Māui coming together, it’s probably best we learn what that means for us. And how to coexist with them.”

 Only Mike and Michele continue to argue after that point, and Axl is already on his cell giving Gaia a call. From where he’s sitting, Anders can see that Michele is already thinking, calculating what would be her best option in this mess. He drifts back into his corner with Mitchell though, not wanting to get further involved until Gaia got there. He could explain what Mitchell is, but he doesn’t really feel like drawing Mike’s ire further. Explaining about other supernaturals? That would really piss Mike off.

 Ty is still nearby, and after watching the argument further, he leans in to Mitchell and asks, “I don’t want to sound like Mike, but what are you anyways?” Turning to Anders, he adds, “and when did you find out?”

 Mitchell opens his mouth to answer, but Anders beats him to it. “I found out yesterday that he’s a vampire when he stopped some Christian psycho bitch who was trying to kill me.”

 “What do you mean, ‘ _trying to kill you’_!?” Ty shouts. The argument suddenly stops, all the others turning to the usually quiet Johnson in shock. Anders and Mitchell both blink in confusion.

 “Mitchell called Mike yesterday about it since I’d lost my voice talking her down. She said she was a god hunter sent to wipe out our kind, and that there were more. Did Mike not pass the message along?”

 This time it’s Mike put on the spot as all the rest of the gods look at him accusingly. “What, I was supposed to believe him?” he asks incredulously. “Some guy I’ve never heard of before calls and tells me that some crazy Christians are after the family? I thought Anders was having me on!”

 “I told you that someone had come after Anders with a crossbow and you thought it was a joke? I called to warn you because he was worried about the rest of you!” The blond is warmed by Mitchell’s immediate defense of him, and Ty’s concern. He’s especially pleased that Ty focussed on the ‘trying to kill Anders’ part of that statement, and not the ‘vampire’ bit. He’s disappointed but not surprised to learn that Mike thought he would sink low enough to joke about someone coming after his family. Before Anders can say anything to Mike about it, slow clapping sounds from the entrance to the bar.

“Well done, the Family Johnson!” Colin drawls as he saunters in.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this chapter took a little longer than usual to get out. I was doing some research on Māori mythology and traditions, although I make no claim to thoroughness. Please, if I've made any mistakes with that in this chapter let me know. I would be happy to fix them.  
> Thanks to everyone who's still reading this fic. Last chapter seems to have been the most popular yet! I really appreciate everyone who's taken the time to leave comments for me. Thanks as always to GreenSorceress and datsunblue for all their help.

Mitchell watches in surprise as the entry of the well dressed middle-aged man shifts the warring Johnsons into a united front. He’s puzzled, but something about this man is triggering his ‘threat’ instincts. Maybe it’s the way he smells faintly of fire.

“Colin,” Mike drawls, not budging from the cross-armed stance he’s maintained for most of the meeting. “What brings you to this side of Auckland today?”

“Simply curious how you Johnsons have managed to fuck up getting our full powers once again.” The assorted gods and goddesses all bristle at the insinuation before he continues, “but that was before I heard about the God Hunters.” Here he drops his jovial manner, and Mitchell is quite certain that he’s correctly judged this man as a threat.

The man, ‘Colin’, Mitchell supposes, looks around the room before his intense blue glare settles on Anders. He raises an eyebrow at Mitchell himself, but ignores him in favour of the blond partially hidden behind his frame. “So, Anders, care to explain how you tipped off the goddamn HUNTERS!”

“I haven’t tipped off anyone, Loki,” Anders answers calmly. “If you’ll recall, I was in Norway for the past few months.” Mitchell knows he’s lying, that he’d accidentally drawn their attention while in Norway, but he’s certainly not going to share that with Loki. He knows enough about mythology to realize Loki’s attention is not something you want.

“If you aren’t responsible for it, then why did they target you?”

“I don’t know,” now Anders steps out from behind Mitchell, and he has to restrain his first instinct to pull him back. Best not to give away his weaknesses at this stage of the game. Colin reminds him uncomfortably of Herrick. Same smiling predator, who’ll only grin wider as they stab you in the back. “Maybe because I’m the most publically visible Johnson,” Anders continues. “She did pose as a potential client after all. Or maybe they saw me as an easy target.” He smiles wolfishly, “obviously they were wrong.”

“Wrong in that you aren’t dead,” Colin smiles back, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I don’t see how that’s a benefit in any way.”

“It’s a benefit because, thanks to Bragi, I know who she is. I also know where she comes from, and was able to convince her to forget the whole encounter. She’s going to go back to her little Hunter buddies and tell them they were wrong. It’s bought us some time to figure out how to deal with them.”

“And how do you propose we do that?” Mike finally interjects. Mitchell has watched him get more and more frustrated with the byplay. Obviously he’s not a man who enjoys a situation that isn’t in his control.

“Well, firstly, we should probably tell the Māori. I don’t know if the Hunters are aware of them as well, but they should at least be warned.”

“Huh, I guess you’re not such a dick after all,” comes yet another voice from the doorway. Mitchell isn’t sure how many more gods are going to turn up, but he wishes they’d stop. It’s not good for his nerves, which are already on edge. He’s having to fight down his instincts to kill, which in the past has only been the case when he needed to run instead. At this point, he’s almost vibrating with the tension of suppressing himself. He calms slightly when Anders’ hand brushes his own, like the blond can sense his struggle. He turns his attention outward again, doing his best to ignore his instincts and looking at the woman near the entrance. From her opening statement, he’s guessing she’s from the Māori pantheon, which probably means this is the all important Gaia. If he’d thought about it, he would have expected someone more...imposing rather than the slight figure in the doorway.

Mitchell takes some time to study the petite woman as she moves into the bar. There’s a calm confidence to her stride, an aura of power he’s willing to bet hadn’t been there before yesterday. Now that he knows what it is, he can read the scent of godliness coming more strongly from this small Māori than from any of the Norse pantheon, no matter their posturing. His sharp eyesight also picks up some faint strands of colour in her hair and under her skin. Colours of the earth and of growing things. She’s clearly come into her own as the incarnation of Papatūānuku. He can see from the corner of his eye that all the others are watching her as well.

Gaia finally halts beside Axl, squeezing his shoulder with a fleeting look of affection and regret. Mitchell would guess that Gaia’s emotions and thoughts are still there, but somewhat subsumed by the goddess she has now become. He can hear a slight duality in her voice when she speaks, not unlike when Anders invokes Bragi.

“So it seems we have much to discuss today. Axl told me you wished to speak regarding the outcome of the ceremony yesterday. It also seems that we must decide what to do about these hunters.” She turns to Anders then, rather than addressing the room as a whole. “Thank you, vessel of Bragi, for thinking to add the Māori to this discussion.” Anders looks surprised at this, both the tone and the thanks. She’s speaking much more formally than she had initially and Mitchell takes it as another sign the goddess is the dominant personality. He hopes Gaia will be able to find a more pleasant balance to her new duality than he had managed upon waking as a vampire. 

“Of course, Gaia,” Anders replies, but then stumbles a little over his words, “or would you prefer to be addressed as Papatūānuku?”

“Either will serve,” she pauses here to smile at Axl gently. “I have not lost who I was, but gained. Being a vessel for a Māori god is much the same as it is for your pantheon. It’s just that gaining our full powers has come with responsibilities.” Mitchell can see regrets in her dark eyes, and guesses that she will not be continuing her relationship with Axl.

It seems that Axl comes to the same conclusion, barking out a cynical laugh as he stares at Gaia. “Responsibilities? Is that why you’re choosing Jerome over me?”

Gaia winces. “Perhaps this is not the best place to discuss this.”

Axl refuses to be deterred. “No. Before the ceremony, we said that no matter what happened we would be together!” He is almost shouting by this point. Mitchell sees Ty’s muscles flexing as he tries to keep the youngest Johnson seated, and drifts over to help. Axl clearly has a temper and having him crowding a goddess is probably not a good idea. He strains against Ty and Mitchell for a time, but can’t compete with vampiric strength and subsides. Axl buries his face in his hands as his shoulders slump. “I love you,” comes out muffled and teary.

“As Gaia, I still care for you. But as Papatūānuku I have a duty to my people. Which does not involve a pairing with Odin,” she replies as gently as she can. “I am not with Jerome however. The prophecy only talks about a meeting with Māui, which occurred once my ceremony was complete.”

“Then...?” Axl looks up with hope in his eyes, but she cuts him off before he can continue.

“No, Axl. Even if I did not have a duty to my people, you have a duty to yours. I am not Frigg, and you must complete your quest or else your death will be the cause of great destruction.”

“But why? It’s not like I’m going to die tomorrow,” Axl says petulantly. Mitchell is beginning to think Axl is a bit spoiled. It seems he’s used to getting his own way, and his temper flares up when he doesn’t. Becoming Odin probably hasn’t helped that any.

“That’s what I’ve been telling you, Axl,” Olaf cuts in. “It doesn’t matter when it happens. If you die before finding Frigg, it doesn’t matter if you’re ninety, it triggers a natural disaster and all your family dies. The earthquake caused by the death of the first Odin? It’s known as New Zealand’s deadliest.”

Axl pales a bit at hearing this, the implications finally setting in, although his face remains stubborn.

“And that’s why we will help you find Frigg,” Gaia cuts in. All the other vessels turn to the petite woman in surprise.

“And why would the Māori care about the Norse getting their powers?” Colin drawls suspiciously.

“We don’t. Our concern is for the lives that will be lost if Odin dies before the quest is complete.” Anders is still watching her closely, like he can tell she’s not explaining everything, but he doesn’t draw attention to any omissions. Mitchell supposes he’s probably waiting to speak to her more privately. Gaia catches Anders’ eye and gives a small nod of acknowledgement before continuing. “As for the matter of the Hunters, did they say anything about us?”

“Not explicitly. She just talked about ‘other gods’, and you may not have caught their notice as from what I’ve heard; all the Māori have been very subtle with the use of their powers. You’ll probably be more visible now however, since regaining your full strength.”

“An important distinction. Thank you for the warning. In any case, we must take action before the Hunters can strike at anyone else. Can you make all of them forget, as you did with the one who attacked you?”

“I’m not sure,” Anders is forced to admit. Mitchell can see the admission is reluctant, but for whatever reason Anders seems determined to be upfront with the goddess. “It would depend on their individual strength of will. Probably not though. I lost my voice after yesterday, and my abilities still aren’t at full strength. Best case would be speaking to one or two at a time.”

“How about you tell me who they are, and I’ll go take care of them,” Colin suggests. He appears eager to use his powers to ‘take care’ of them and Mitchell shudders internally. It really is like Herrick all over again, although Colin is much more enthusiastic about getting his hands dirty. His sire usually preferred to send someone else, usually Mitchell. Claimed that ‘sending a message’ was more powerful when he was also demonstrating his control of a vampire as feared as John Mitchell. Never mind that it was because of Herrick that he had gotten that reputation in the first place. Mitchell would have to keep a close watch on Colin. He seemed dangerously capricious and the vampire didn’t want to see Anders hurt.

“We’re not sending you to take care of anything,” Mike interjects angrily. It’s hard to tell why he’s rejecting the solution however: because he hadn’t made the suggestion, because Colin had, or if he doesn’t want the Hunters killed.

“Afraid to get your hands dirty, Mikkel?” Colin taunts. Mike is on the verge of lunging for him when Gaia speaks again.

“We would prefer a solution which does not involve bloodshed.” The Irishman notes this habit of using we, but isn’t sure whether it refers to the Māori or to her combined consciousness.

“Not to mention, Colin, it’s a little suspicious if they all go up in flames or vanish,” Anders adds. “One of the other things Natalie told me is there are other groups of Hunters. If all these ones suddenly die after claiming to have discovered gods here, that’s a pretty fucking big red flag.”

Colin just sneers and turns away, unwilling to admit the point gracefully. He paces briefly before muttering to himself, throwing his hands in the air and striding out the door. Mitchell can hear a little of the commentary, mostly about “bloody useless Johnsons...fingers up their arses...be dead before they find the Frigg.” No one is much inclined to stop him from leaving.

“Is there anyone among the Māori who has a similar ability to Bragi?” Ingrid asks. “That seems the best solution outside of killing them. From what I’ve heard over the years about Hunters, they’re unlikely to give up because of threats.” Mitchell finds himself nodding unconsciously, remembering the Hunters he’d run into over the years. The few that had gone after Herrick’s coven hadn’t stood a chance, but they were persistent and the deaths of their fellows hadn’t been a deterrent. His sire had kept one as a pet for a time before the man had managed to kill himself. 

The brunet had also encountered a pair while he was staying with Carl. They had been far more difficult to deal with as Carl still refused to kill. He’d tried to hide from the hunters, and then to convince them he was no threat since he didn’t kill anymore. None of that worked, and in the end, Mitchell had wound up tied to a chair going through withdrawal once again. One of the Hunters had injured Carl’s human lover and Mitchell had killed them both, too many years as Herrick’s enforcer had trained him into certain reactions. He knows he would do the same if Anders was threatened, and almost had. It’s this thought that draws him back to the present as Gaia speaks again.

“None of the Māori can sway minds with their words, but there may be a way to boost his abilities. I will have to look into the possibility, but it sounds as if we have some time. Now, what did you originally call me here to discuss?”

The room shifts uncomfortably, but no one seems in a hurry to ask how Bragi’s abilities could be boosted even though they’re all dying to know. Or more probably are wondering if the same applies to their own powers. Finally Stacey is the one to respond to Gaia about their original question.

“Well, umm, no offense, but why are you Papatūānuku? It seems like both prophecies were equally valid. And what’s going to happen now that you all have your full powers? Jerome seemed to think you would be changing the islands and bringing the Māori together.”

The goddess is still for a long moment, and the vessels start to shift uncomfortably again, everyone afraid that Stacey’s question has offended her. So it comes as a great surprise when instead of anger, she laughs lightly. “Both prophecies would have been equally valid if Frigg had not already found a vessel before I came of age. Instead, the well-meaning efforts of the giant and dwarf only served to draw attention further from the true Frigg.

“As for Jerome’s boasting, the vessel of Māui has overreached himself once again. The Earth Mother is not his to claim. And re-uniting the Māori in such a way may have been the goal once, but the world has changed. Even the gods need to work in more subtle ways. I think Jerome has been watching too many movies to be honest,” she grins and Mitchell can see the girl shining past the goddess. “We will still be helping the Māori people. It just no longer seems that ousting the Pakeha is the best way to do so.” 

There is a collective sigh of relief from the others in the bar at this, as even the most arrogant of those remaining had been wondering how they could possibly compete with fully empowered gods. Gaia smiles again at their obvious relief.

“If that is everything, I believe it is time for me to depart. I have much to discuss with the others. I also believe my presence is causing Axl pain, since we cannot be how we were.” She catches Anders’ eye as she leaves, and he slips out shortly after her. No one but Mitchell seems to notice his departure, as Mike has decided to have another go at Ty and all the others have joined in on one side or the other. Most appear to be supporting Ty which is only making Mike angrier. Since Mitchell has only been there for Anders in the first place, he leaves them to it and follows his blond outside.

The vampire traces the sound of voices back into the alley beside the bar where Gaia and Anders are talking quietly, out of view from the street. He moves to join them and is absolutely stunned to find himself slammed against the wall as shoots from the vine growing nearby curl around his wrists and hold him captive. He reflexively snarls as his eyes snap black, and then has to blink a few times before he realizes he’s actually seeing the power of the goddess on Gaia. There’s a green and ochre luminescence to her seen this way, and a few tendrils connect to the vines holding him prisoner. Almost forgetting about his predicament in surprise, he glances over to Anders and sees a fainter golden glow around the blond which must be due to Bragi.

“Hey, what are you doing to Mitchell?” Anders demands angrily. “I thought we had agreed to work together! I warned you about the Hunters!”

It’s Gaia’s turn to look surprised, although it’s more likely Papatūānuku responsible for these actions. “And I am seeking to warn you in turn. You have befriended a dark creature, one who is likely to turn on you and rip your throat out.”

“I would never hurt Anders like that,” Mitchell protests, but she continues like he has not spoken.

“I will eliminate him for you if you would like,” she offers calmly, ignoring the vampire struggling against his bindings. He would say it’s misplaced confidence to disregard a vampire, but he’s using all his strength and the thin vines don’t even budge. When what she’s offered sinks in, he stops trying to break free. Instead his eyes, once again back to hazel, fix on Anders. Waiting to see what his answer will be. 

Mitchell isn’t sure he would try to stop her from killing him if Anders agrees to it, or if he would allow the blond to pass judgement on him. He’s confessed a lot of his sins to the other man, surely he has as much right as any. With that decision made, he closes his eyes and waits.

“Are you fucking crazy? Of course I don’t want you to ‘eliminate’ him,” but apparently doesn’t have to wait long. His eyes snap open at Anders’ vehemence. “I know he’s a vampire, but he saved my life yesterday. He’s not a dark creature. Mitchell is one of the kindest people I’ve ever met.”

Papatūānuku turns back to face Mitchell when Anders rejects her offer, tilting her head to the side and studying him intently. He’s not sure what she’s looking for, but he meets her gaze steadily. He’s trying not to hide from the consequences of his actions anymore, and his conscience is clean in this country. In the weeks he’s been in New Zealand the vampire had avoided even coming close to feeding.

It feels like the goddess is looking through him and all his faults, but finally she seems satisfied with what she’s discovered. A simple flick of her wrists frees him from the vines. It’s gratifying when Anders almost rushes over and grabs his hands, checking his wrists for damage. He’s once again startled when Anders then draws him into a deep kiss, but he melts into the contact. Mitchell had been under the impression from his actions that the blond wanted to hide that aspect of their relationship for now, and after meeting the rest of his family he understands why. Gaia makes a low sound of surprise at the kiss, but laughs softly when they break apart.

“You’re a man of many surprises, Anders Johnson. I had been under the impression you only went for women. At least that’s what I gathered from Axl. I think he’s simultaneously impressed and disgusted by your reputation with women,” Gaia teases.

“Little bro is just jealous. And listens to Mike too much.” Anders shrugs. “What can I say though? I’m an equal opportunity pervert.” That’s enough to set Gaia off into peals of laughter, and Mitchell can’t help but snort as he throws an arm around the other man’s shoulders.

“’Equal opportunity pervert, love?” Mitchell asks. “Such eloquent words from the god of poetry.”

Anders elbows him in the side, just hard enough to draw a little huff of breath from the brunet. “Part of poetry is seeing and appreciating the beauty in things. I’m not going to let a little thing like gender get in the way of some...appreciating,” he responds with filthy emphasis.

Gaia gives a last giggle at his rejoinder before trying to compose herself. “If seems I have misjudged both of you, and for that I apologize.” Both men smile and nod in appreciation of the apology. The Irishman can almost feel the shock radiating from Anders though, that she would acknowledge she had misjudged him. His heart breaks that so few people seem to have bothered to look past the blond’s cocky facade. For his own part, he’s not going to blame her for her judgement of him.

“No apologies needed, for a long time I was exactly what you were trying to warn Anders of. I’m trying my best not to be, but generally I would suggest staking vampires as soon as you know what they are. Giving a vamp the benefit of the doubt is a good way to get killed.” Part of Mitchell can’t believe he’s saying this, knows that even a few weeks ago telling someone to outright kill a vampire would be unthinkable to him. He no longer feels the need to defend his own kind and it’s liberating.

“Thank you for the warning, Mitchell. I believe you have good in you however, and I’m glad that I did not take action against you immediately. For one, you may prove to be a way to augment Bragi’s powers.”

Both men pause to digest that, although Mitchell notes Anders appears more thoughtful than surprised. “How can a vampire like me help a god?” he has to ask. His earlier feelings of insignificance come rushing back. As Gaia has just reminded him, he’s a creature, not to be trusted. Nothing compared to a god like Anders. He hasn’t felt like this since the earliest days after he was recruited, falling back on the natural vampire arrogance and drowning his feelings in blood. He’s starting to realize that even after he’d decided to go clean that arrogance had lingered. After all, wasn’t he superior to the others, being strong enough to defy his sire and give up blood? And if he messed up sometimes, if he fed and killed someone or turned them; well, that was only natural wasn’t it? Mitchell was fighting against his very nature after all, he should be commended for even trying!

Now that he’s put some more distance between him and that lifestyle, he feels disgusted by himself. He barely registers Gaia and Anders still talking as realization washes over him. All those thoughts about doing his best and backsliding being understandable, that’s all Herrick’s rhetoric. Even when he was trying everything to distance himself from his sire, he still poisoned Mitchell’s choices. Letting Mitchell ‘stray’ so he could draw him back into the fold all the more deeply. The only mistake Herrick had made was allowing Mitchell to see the feeding room before he’d fully been indoctrinated into Herrick’s grand vision for the future. The Irishman can acknowledge that a few weeks more, maybe a carefully staged incident or two to further the disgust with humanity he had been feeling... He would have been Herrick’s again, all because of that little voice in the back of his mind. The influence his sire permanently had on all those he ‘recruited’. He huffs a laugh to himself, morbidly imagining Herrick as one of those ‘shoulder devils’ you see in cartoons. He’ll have to call George and thank him again, he’s realizing he was freed from more than he’d thought.

Regardless of the second chance he has now, he can’t help but wonder how long it will be before Anders realizes he can do far better than a scruffy reforming killer. He’s trying to be a better person and knows he should walk away now and let the blond find someone better. But he still has a selfish streak, and he wants to be the one helping Anders and making him smile.

When he regains awareness of his surroundings again, it’s to see that Gaia is gone as Anders regards him with a quizzical expression. “Where’d she go?”

Anders waves a hand carelessly towards the alley entrance. “Off to talk to the other Māori gods. I think the more important question is where did you go?”

Mitchell blinks at the other man in puzzlement. “What are you talking about? I’ve been standing here the whole time.”

“I called your name three times and you didn’t respond, you weren’t really here.” Anders grins impishly. “Away with the faeries?”

Mitchell’s face makes a good attempt at an embarrassed flush, but he also can’t help the pang of loss as the reminder of his homeland. “My gran used to say that to me,” he mumbles almost to himself, ducking his head. When he looks up, he meets steady grey-blue eyes where Anders has stepped close. His eyes express a willingness to listen, but the blond doesn’t press. Almost in spite of himself, Mitchell finds words spilling from his mouth.

“I was...well, I guess you would say...I was a nerd, as a kid. Most of the other kids would tease me when they got the chance. I was a bit of a dreamer, lost in my own head because I didn’t have any friends. That didn’t really help me make any either. My gran used to say I was ‘away with the faeries’, and that if I wasn’t careful they wouldn’t bring me back one day,” he laughs as his younger self so long ago. “I of course acted like I didn’t believe her, but I was always careful around faerie mounds and faerie rings.” He falls silent again as he can’t help compare the tales of mortals taken by faerie to his own existence as a vampire. The stories would tell of mortals lured by the Fair Folk to spend a night or two under hill, only to emerge and discover years had passed and everything they knew was gone. It’s like the blood haze he’s only beginning to truly get past.

Anders laughs at the story, probably not as harshly as it sounds to Mitchell in that moment. “Nerdy little Mitchell, kidnapped by faeries because he didn’t listen to his gran.” He intends it to tease, but it pricks at old unhealed wounds and his tone reminds the Irishman too much of the village boys when they were planning something particularly cruel.

“Fuck off,” Mitchell snarls low and hurt, turning away from the blond. His body shakes as he struggles with conflicting impulses to violence and tears. He doesn’t want to give in to vampire rage, but he also can’t stand to go back to being little Johnny Mitchell again. He had only begun to discover who he was as an adult when Herrick had taken him. 

He only gets a few long strides down towards the mouth of the alley before footsteps pound behind him and he feels a gentle hand on his elbow. He stops dead, trying again to control his impulse to hurt.

“I’m sorry, Mitchell. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I can be a dick, I know, and sometimes things don’t come out the way I mean them to.” The hand slides from his elbow into his own hand and squeezes gently. “Sounds like you were a cute kid. Too bad there probably aren’t any pictures. I bet you had curls everywhere.”

Mitchell has to snort a laugh at that, and turns around with a rueful grin. “Oh yeah, it was ridiculous. Ma threatened to shear me along with the sheep more than once. But no, no pictures. We didn’t have the money for anything like that.”

“Apology accepted then?” Anders sounds hopeful.

“Of course. Honestly, it’s not even something that would normally bother me. It’s just...I was realizing some things and remembering...it was all just bad timing.”

The blond looks like he wants to push for more of an explanation, but lets it go for the time being. Instead he draws the brunet in for a kiss. Mitchell is hesitant at first, not really in the mood, but he soon finds himself relaxing into the easy kiss. Rather than stay relaxed, he hardens almost immediately when Anders gets a firm grip in his curls and pulls his head to the side as the Kiwi licks and nips along a tendon in his neck.

“Can you come back to my place?” he whispers into Mitchell’s ear as the brunet whimpers. “Cause seeing you pinned against the wall like that? Once I knew she wasn’t going to kill you, that was so incredibly hot... I’ve been dying to stake you myself since then.”

Mitchell lets out a long groan at that, half at the terrible pun and half at the incredible friction of Anders rubbing his hard cock against his own. He can feel the heat of the thick length even through their trousers and is suddenly thinking about very little except getting to an appropriately private place. He pulls Anders into another hard kiss as they clumsily make their way back down the alley. Mitchell only breaks away when he hears approaching footsteps.

“Mmm, Anders, there’s someone coming,” he mumbles against the blond’s lips as he does his best to resist being drawn into another kiss.

“So?” Anders sounds confused as to why Mitchell’s bothering to mention something like that.

“What if it’s one of your brothers?”

Mitchell can feel the moment that question is truly absorbed as the other man stiffens in his arms. He pulls back with panicked eyes, looking around frantically for somewhere to hide. The vampire can already tell the alley is too open and bright for that, their best bet is to act normal.

“Anders, calm down,” he says soothingly, hands reaching out to smooth down blond curls and rumpled clothes. “Just act natural. Gaia had something to say to you, she had a little disagreement with me, that’s all.”

The god takes a deep breath, and Mitchell watches as his mask comes down once again concealing his emotions. It’s only just in time as Mike rounds the corner. He eyes them suspiciously, but Anders speaks first.

“Is the meeting over then?”

“Why did you come out here?”

“Still need to follow my every move big bro? Gaia needed to talk to me about a few things, she preferred to do it privately so Axl couldn’t keep giving her the puppy dog eyes.”

“And your friend here?” Mike grates out, glaring at Anders.

Mitchell shrugs. “I didn’t know if Anders would be back. No point in staying when he’s the only one I really know.”

Mike’s glare transfers to the brunet. “So why did you bother coming in the first place?”

“I was there yesterday when Anders was attacked. Seemed to make sense to tag along when he was telling you about it.” Mitchell’s casual response makes Mike visibly angrier, but he’s reining it in for now. He’s surprised but relieved that Mike hasn’t asked about his little threat display earlier, or his comment that he’s not strictly speaking a mortal. 

“Is there a point to this interrogation, Mike? If the meeting’s over then I’d rather get home.”

The older Johnson stares suspiciously at the two of them, but finally sighs and rubs a hand over his face. “Fine, leave. We’re done for now anyways. There’s another meeting in a few days to talk about what to do with the Hunters. Try to leave your friend at home for that one.”

Rather than respond, Anders just nods and makes sure to avoid brushing against his brother on the way to the car. Mitchell follows close behind, ignoring the glare Mike shoots him on his way past. Both Mitchell and Anders breathe out a sigh of relief once they’re in his car. He’s about to suggest they get back to the Kiwi’s place but then he realizes the day.

“Shite!”

“What’s the matter Mitchell?” Anders sounds alarmed.

“It’s only Sunday. I just realized I have to be at work in half an hour.”

“What? But what about getting back to my place...?”

Mitchell leans over to draw Anders into another kiss. “Sorry love. I can’t afford to miss work. If I get fired, I won’t have a place to live either.”

“You can live with me,” the blond promises impulsively. Mitchell is almost as shocked by the offer as Anders himself, blue-grey eyes wide and startled. Despite this, he makes no move to withdraw his suggestion.

Mitchell seriously considers it, but... “Thanks Anders, that means a lot to me. I don’t think I’m ready to live with you yet though. I’m still occasionally having blood withdrawal symptoms, and I don’t want you to have to deal with those.”

“Then at least call in sick to work.”

The brunet laughs. “No matter how you pout, I still have to get to my job. I’ll make it up to you, promise.”

Anders grins wickedly at that, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Promise? Will you let me have my way with you later then?”

“Anything you want.” Mitchell knows as he says it that he’s letting himself in for trouble, but the pleasure on Anders’ face makes it hard to regret.

“I’m holding you to that.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's read and kudos and commented, I really appreciate all of you. Here's the next chapter! This actually wound up being really long, so I've split it into two parts, and the second will be posted in a few days. Thanks to theGreenSorceress and datsunblue for all their help.

Anders stares at Mitchell’s back as the brunet jogs to his job. The shock from everything that’s happened over the past two days is finally sinking in. He finds himself driving home on autopilot as he rolls the events over in his mind. He’d gone from having a fairly normal and routine life, for the vessel of a Norse god anyways, to...this. It used to be a normal day was showing up at the office for a few hours: bothering Dawn, dealing with unruly clients, coming up with new advertising campaigns. Once in awhile he’d go out after work to get drunk and find someone to have a few hours of fun with. More often he’d go home and write or draw or read for a few hours to pacify Bragi in the hopes he would be able to sleep. Sometimes it worked; if it didn’t, well, that’s what the drugs and alcohol were for.

But since Axl had become Odin, everything has changed. Mostly not for the better. Sure he’s got his brothers back in his life now, though he’d never completely lost contact with Ty. Mike is still the same control freak as ever. Anders had been hoping he would mellow with age, especially once Axl moved out, but no such luck. He bets Mike thinks _he_ should have been the one to become the All Father.

Anders is most conflicted in how he feels about Axl. His baby brother had always been a bit spoiled. After their parents left, all three brothers did their best to make sure the rest of Axl’s childhood was better than theirs had been, to the extent that the three oldest Johnsons had difficulty saying ‘no’ to Axl. He’s not sure if it’s because of that or because of Odin that Axl can be such a brat now. Before his twenty-first, Anders hadn’t properly seen his youngest brother since Mike had tossed him out of the house on his own twenty-first. It’d been almost ten years since Mike’s banishment, and he’d only ever seen Axl at the awkward family gatherings that Olaf insisted they have from time to time. He’d been so pleased to have the chance to get to know his brother as an adult, to help him on his quest. Maybe Anders had gone about it in the wrong way, taking Axl out partying and encouraging him to get his end away, but he just wanted Axl to have fun. He’s sorry the only way he’d actually managed to help was in clearing him from those drugs charges. What he truly regrets however is his role in bringing Axl and Eva together when they thought she was the Frigg. The bloody god of poetry should have been able to read those goddamn runes. _“Dancing trees”_ indeed, should have known better than to believe in Olaf and Ingrid to actually get them translated properly. Sure, he can’t stand Mike half the time, but the choking panic when he thought Mike was going to be sacrificed? That was worse. And Ty stepping in to marry Eva instead had made his poor brother even more miserable than he usually was.   Anders is both relieved and guilty he’d been in Norway for most of their doomed marriage. He would have hated seeing Ty dying by inches, but the blond also hadn’t been there to support his brother.

After all that however, he’s not sure what he thinks of the person his baby brother has become. Axl has shown some disconcerting flashes of rage and possessiveness that remind Anders uncomfortably of their parents. Mike and Ty would probably argue with that assessment, although on behalf of different parents. Mike only saw the best of their Dad, Ty of their Mum. But Anders had been nobody’s favourite. Axl was too young to remember that, but it’s starting to look like he may have inherited some of the worst parts of them. He’s not the only one. Mike has his own extreme temper. Ty is rather possessive of Dawn. Hopefully losing Gaia as he has will make Axl grow up a little, not make him worse. As for Anders himself, he knows his own flaws all too well, and can’t justify blaming them on his parent’s legacy.

Anders comes out of his thoughts to realize he’s been sitting in his car outside his apartment for some time. He numbly stumbles up the stairs and pulls over a chair to stare at his fish. Watching them swim always helps calm his thoughts. He’s not sure why all this is only really crashing down on him now. Maybe the tension of the meeting was the final straw.

Aside from the ongoing issues with his family, the biggest change in his life has been Mitchell. Some would think Natalie’s attempt on his life would be more of an impact, but Anders is used to extreme reactions. Okay, no one’s tried to kill him before, but he thinks he actually prefers that to what others have done. She would have succeeded if it hadn’t been for Mitchell.

The vampire has become such a part of his life so quickly. It had felt natural to invite Mitchell to live with him. Despite that, he’s still relieved that the Irishman had turned down his impulsive offer, although he was gratified the other man had given it serious consideration.  It’s not that he doesn’t want to live with Mitchell, withdrawal symptoms and all. No, it’s because he doesn’t yet trust himself not to fuck this up. It’s a risk, opening himself up again to care for someone. Everyone else has rejected or ridiculed Anders at some point, so there’s clearly something wrong with him. It’s just a matter of time before Mitchell does the same.

And yet there’s still a part of Anders that wants to believe this time will be different. To let this continue rather than break it off before Mitchell gets in too deep. They’ve already had a few minor arguments and misunderstandings, but the brunet has stuck around. He’d accepted Anders’ apology readily enough earlier that day, when the blond hadn’t realized his words had edges. It’s a new thing for him to learn sensitive spots so he can avoid them. Usually he digs for soft spots to aim his words like daggers, cutting first before others can get their blows in. ‘Poor little Anders Johnson’, always the smallest and weakest, easy to push around and beat on until he learned to use his words rather than his fists. Being Bragi only made it easier, gave his words more weight. It’s just a shame that the words don’t usually work on his family. Their _fists_ on the other hand... And yet, for some reason he’s never tried using his powers against them. Maybe it’s his conscience. Maybe he’s just afraid of what would happen if they didn’t work.

Anders wants to try them on Mitchell though. If the vampire agrees. He’s especially curious now that Gaia has told him that the vampire could possibly enhance his abilities. It sounds too good to be true, but somehow he’s inclined to believe her. It’s something about the way Bragi reacts around the brunet. He’d noticed it from the beginning, the way the god seemed to be listening when the brunet spoke. That and any number of small irregularities Anders had been content to ignore seemed to be explained now that he knows about Mitchell’s condition. He’ll have to sit down with him at some point to find out what it and isn’t true about vampires. Finding out the other man has no reflection was enough of a shock.

For now though, he might as well do that research into PR companies he’d intended to. Mitchell will be at his job all of tonight anyways, and he had promised Dawn that partnership talk this week after all. It’s time after all. Past time if he’s honest, which historically he’s tried to avoid. With the thought of her happy smile in mind, and how she’d been his only real friend for so long, he retrieves his laptop from his bag and flops down on the sofa. Time to do some research.

Two hours later and he’s regretting even _thinking_ about this partnership thing. Okay, more the research than anything. Who knew other PR companies were so rigid and stodgy? No wonder he still gets clients, even at his most eccentric – ie. drunk or high – moments. He’s not making Dawn his ‘Executive Co-Director for the Marketing Sub-Committee on Ethics’ or some bullshit like that. Hell, j:pr has never been anything resembling conventional, why should they start now? Rather than go in with a pre-planned job title and list of responsibilities for her, he should just sit down with Dawn and have an honest conversation. Anders realizes now that he’s not even sure why she applied for the job in the first place. And moreover why Dawn’s stayed for so long despite her frustration with him. He wants to know what she expects from becoming a partner, what she sees as the future of j:pr. How big she thinks they should become.

Because contrary to what he’s sure others believe about him, he’s happy for j:pr to remain a small company. Anders has had a number of opportunities over the years to expand and hire more employees. If he did that though, he’d wind up being an overseer and he likes working more hands on. Some of his best ideas are spur of the moment, like using that sex tape to actually give Rosie’s career a boost.

He also doesn’t know how long people would want to work for him. Anders is well aware that he drives Dawn up the wall sometimes. Sometimes it’s intentional, and she tends to give just as good as she gets. It’s one of the reasons he likes her so much. Others though...it’s then she gets that disappointed look in her eyes that he hates. That look tends to lead to him drowning those feelings in some combination of booze, drugs, and willing company. Which usually leads to more disappointment. It’s a vicious cycle.

Thinking about it though, he has to brighten. Anders hasn’t seen that look once since Mitchell really became a part of his life. It’s a good sign. And somehow all his thoughts keep circling back to the Irishman. Normally this is where he’d immerse himself in his usual vices, but he’s finding he doesn’t want to be that man anymore. He stands up, dropping his laptop carelessly on the coffee table as he moves to distract himself with his fish again. Before Anders sits down however, a gold-tinged flash of an idea surfaces. Redirecting his steps to his bedroom, he shucks off clothes as he goes. Best to be comfortable while he works. Instead of another suit, he pulls on an old worn t-shirt and pajama pants. He also tugs his sketchbook and pencils from the bottom of a drawer.

He’d always enjoyed drawing before Bragi, but it wasn’t exactly _encouraged_ in the Johnson household, so he’d learned to hide it. Even now in his own flat. Rather than dwell on that, he settles back onto the sofa and gets to work. Anders isn’t sure how long has passed when he surfaces from his golden haze, but he’s finished what he’d meant to.

Mitchell stares out at him from the page, a broad grin on his face as his eyes crinkle in happiness. It takes Anders a moment to recall the scene he’s drawn, but he’s instantly aroused as soon as he does. This is the face the brunet was wearing as he pinned Anders to the bed. Just before some of the most mindblowing sex Anders has ever had. The blond groans as he reaches down to palm his insistent erection. It’s hard to believe that was only this morning.

He goes to grab his phone to text Mitchell with a demand that he get his gorgeous ass over once his shift is done, but the movement stalls when he realizes he has work the following day. Anders growls in frustration. The pub doesn’t even close until 1am. Mitchell wouldn’t get to Anders’ in time for them to do more than crawl into bed for sleep if the blond wants to be at all awake at j:pr. Ordinarily he would blow off work in favour of getting his end away, but he can’t do that when his company is only just recovering from his neglect since Axl’s god ceremony. Ignoring work in an attempt to ingratiate himself with his family hadn’t been his best decision.

He almost tosses his phone away in irritation that he can’t have what he wants before he has a wicked idea. Anders is still getting used to this ‘delayed gratification’ thing, but maybe it has its uses. After all, a delay just means he has time to plan.

_Come over for dinner tomorrow? Say 6-ish?_

6 o’clock should give him enough time to pick up a few things and get his idea set up, if he ducks out of work a bit early. He grins intently to himself, having more than a few ideas about what to do with Mitchell’s promise that Anders could have his way with the brunet.

* * *

Mitchell sighs as he clears the final table of the night. He’d felt his text alert go off earlier, but it was insanely busy for a Sunday night and he’d had no time to check it. All he has the energy for that night is to stagger upstairs and collapse into his own bed, and he hopes Anders will understand that if it’s an invitation to come ‘round. His plans to Skype George will also have to be delayed, he’s just about run off his feet.

_“The past few days have been so strange,”_ Mitchell muses as he scrubs down all the tables and stacks the chairs neatly on top. Not just the whole thing with the Hunters and gods, but that after all that tension he still has work at his utterly ordinary job. When people picture gods and vampires, they don’t generally assume they’re pulling pints at the local or running a PR company. Things so great and terrible don’t slot neatly into such a mundane life.

Mitchell feels like an automaton as he mechanically finishes the rest of his closing duties. More than once he blinks back to himself to find that he’s been mindlessly scrubbing at the same spot on a table over and over; or loading glasses into the dishwasher from a tray he’s already emptied, his hand grabbing empty air without registering. In his exhaustion, it feels like it takes three times longer than usual to close up, but finally everything is done.

Mitchell’s legs feel leaden as he trudges up to his tiny flat, relieved he doesn’t have to go any farther that night. That thought finally reminds his of the earlier text he has yet to read. He fumbles his phone out of his pocket and forces his grainy eyes to focus on the glowing screen. The text is indeed from Anders.

_Come over for dinner tomorrow? Say 6-ish?_

He collapses into bed with relief. _Of coirse. C u tehn_ , he manages to type out, aware he’s mis-typing but not really caring. It’s close enough. The vampire only pauses to kick off his shoes before tipping sideways to land on his pillow with a thump. He’s asleep before he can think about pulling up the blankets.

__________

Mitchell awakens well into the following afternoon curled into a tiny ball to conserve heat. His aching muscles protest as he forces himself to stretch out, knowing that jumping in to a hot shower is the best way to get back to normal quickly. One of the many downsides to being a vampire – not generating your own body heat. It’s fine when he gets cold while moving, but his muscles stiffen up badly when he’s at rest. George used to tease him about how many blankets he’d burrow into while watching TV when the flat’s heating broke. Said the ‘vampire mystique’ was well and truly broken when he looked like a blanket burrito.

The Irishman glances at the clock as he forces his stiff limbs to stagger their way to the shower. 3pm, way too early to call George. He finally lurches into the bathroom and runs the shower almost as hot as it will go. He’s half-tempted to jump in fully dressed, but somehow manages to wrangle his fitted clothes off stiff limbs. It’s almost instant relief as the steaming water unknots tight muscles. A pornographic moan echoes off the small confines of the shower stall as the soothing warmth kicks in. Minutes pass as Mitchell lets the hot water run down his lanky body and plaster unruly curls to his face.

Once the heat has soaked into his core the vampire washes himself perfunctorily, climbing out just as the water turns cool. While the pub may have unlimited hot water, experience has taught him that the flat above it does not. Despite this, he realizes he’s managed to spend close to half an hour in the shower when he walks back out again, a towel slung low around his hips. Mitchell flops down onto the bed as the springs protest loudly, staring absently at the ceiling and wondering what to do on his day off. His mind drifts, still tired despite the amount of sleep he’s gotten. He thinks about calling Anders before recalling that he already has plans with the blond.

_“Dinner. Wait, what if we’re going out? Am I supposed to bring anything?”_ He’s not gone to someone’s for dinner for a very long time. Not since Josie, and that was the occasional snatched moment when he could duck away from Herrick. People don’t exactly invite scruffy hospital cleaners out for a posh dinner, especially since Mitchell tried very hard to remain unremarkable. And vampire dinner parties...well, he didn’t think Anders had that kind of thing in mind. But outside of that, he’s realizing he actually has no frame of reference for what to do outside of TV. Mitchell is more than a little tempted to call George and make him help, but it’s still too early in Bristol to wake up his friend.

The thought gives him an unexpected pang of homesickness. Not for Bristol itself, although the vampire in him is somewhat drawn to their history there. No, he’s homesick for George and Annie, for their little pink sanctuary from the outside world. If they were around right now, George would be stammering his confusion about Mitchell hooking up with a bloke, but be supportive nonetheless; George stammering in confusion being pretty much the norm. Annie would be fussing over him, trying to help him pick out his clothes and get ready. She’s have that air of determined cheerfulness about her. Pleased for him but unhappy to be reminded of all the things she can’t do as a ghost, still trying not to let on. He wonders if Anders would be able to see her. And if Nina was there, she’d probably be making sly reminders about his ‘condition’ and reminding him not to eat his boyfriend. Annie would glare at her, and George would try to mediate between the two. Poor George, stuck in the middle between his girlfriend and his best friend.

Though that’s not quite true. Mitchell would have no problem with Nina if she’d just lay off him. He quite likes the spunky nurse, she’s been good for George. He just wishes she’d stop putting the blame for everything supernatural on him. Mitchell had nothing to do with George being a werewolf, and he’d done his best to prevent her from getting scratched. If she’s crazy enough to run into a room with a transforming werewolf and a self-proclaimed King of vampires, anything that happens as a result is on her. Yes Mitchell is a vampire, and yes he’s done some terrible things; but he’s also trying to make up for them. Nina had seemed willing enough to give him the benefit of the doubt right up until she got frustrated with the depth of his friendship with George. Despite everything though, he hopes her first transformation went smoothly. And that she’s finally spoken to George about it. The full moon was a few days ago, she’s had time if she was waiting to see if she transformed first. God, he misses them all. He hopes he’ll be able to introduce Anders to his old flatmates at some point.

As pleasant his thoughts about them have been, they haven’t helped Mitchell with his problem. Growling, he launches himself off the bed to pace the length of the narrow room. Anxiousness fills his chest with a burning itch. He wants things with Anders to go _right_ , and his definition for that has expanded far past the initial ‘don’t eat him or anyone he loves’. Mitchell huffs an angry laugh at himself for how low he’d allowed his standards of acceptable behaviour to sink. His Ma had done her best to raise him to be a good man, she would be so ashamed of what he’d become.

His difficulty now is without the vampire arrogance, he’s not sure how to act. Over the years, he’s been able to fool any number of people into thinking he’s ‘cool’, but that’s just putting on a show. ‘Big Bad John’. Now that he’s just Mitchell, what’s left? He tugs at his curls in frustration, turning to make another lap of the room as his eyes land on his phone. Maybe after he passed out, Anders sent a more specific reply?

_Looking forward to it_. No such luck. Well, there’s nothing for it then. He’ll just try asking and hope it doesn’t come out too awkwardly.

_Can’t wait for dinner with you. You didn’t mention, are we going out? Should I bring anything?_ He continues pacing anxiously as he waits for a response, barely noticing as his towel finally slips off from all the movement. The only benefit to his nervous habits is that constantly running his fingers through his curls has made them dry more smoothly. Finally his phone buzzes with and incoming text, and he practically leaps on it.

_Just dinner at my place, only need to bring your sexy self ;)_. Well, that doesn’t really answer his question, but his gut unclenches a little in relief that at least he won’t have to guess at a restaurant’s dress code. Hopefully being at Anders’ also means fairly casual, since he doesn’t really have any formal wear and no time to get any. Mitchell eyes the contents of his drawers, tugging out his least worn pair of fitted black jeans and a black tank. He wishes he had sexier underwear than his usual boxer briefs, but Anders had seemed to like them well enough. The vampire feels kind of foolish standing in front of his closet as he tries to decide what shirt to wear. Like a teen getting ready for his first date. He eventually spots a deep red button-down hiding in the back from the one and only time he’d let Annie drag him shopping. She’d said it looked gorgeous on him, but he’d never had an opportunity to wear it. Well, Anders had said ‘sexy self’.

When he glances at his clock again, he sees one benefit to taking so long to get ready. By the time he gets dressed, brushes his teeth, and wrestles some product in to tame his unruly curls; it’ll be time to start walking over. No time to sit around and stew.

Once he’s ready, he shoves his usual rings on his fingers but forgoes the gloves. Shrugging on his leather jacket, he almost goes to have a last look in the mirror and is shocked at the reflexive action. He hasn’t done that in years. Anders is making him feel more human than he has since Herrick got his hooks in him. On impulse, he snags a six-pack of the beer Anders had like the other week from the pub, slipping some notes in the till on his way by. If he’d learned anything from his Ma growing up, it’s that you don’t turn up empty handed to a gathering. Even if the host tells you not to bring anything. Maybe especially then.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the rest of that chapter I broke up, as promised. Posting it before everyone has a breakdown over the Hobbit trailer tomorrow. Hope you enjoy ^_^ Thanks to everyone for all your support, and TheGreenSorceress and datsunblue for their help.

Anders walks into j:pr that morning with a sigh. He’s resigned to his fate of spending the day actually working. The surprise is just how much work there is to do. One of the other companies he’d spoken to in person the previous week wants to sign on, and most of their current clients had things to be taken care of. He doesn’t have any time to speak to Dawn regarding partnership and barely notices when he works through lunch. What he does notice is her bringing him a glass of vodka around the time he’d usually ask for one.

“Not today Dawn, but thank you. Would you mind grabbing a coffee for me instead? And whatever you’d like for yourself.” She looks shocked initially, but that quickly gives way to a quirked smile and nod of agreement. She returns with coffee and sandwiches even faster than usual.

“Ah, Dawn, I see your coffee ninja skills are improving. Grab whatever you need from my wallet,” he nods his head to where it’s lying at the corner of his desk. He’s too busy inhaling the sandwich to reach it for her. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was, thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it, Anders. My treat.”

He almost goes to protest, but seeing that she’s wearing her determined face, elects not to try. Dawn’s determined face usually wins. 

The rest of the day passes in a blur as he calculates product launches and looks over the contract the new company has sent. Anders only chooses to make a few minor amendments, then passes it along to Dawn so she can get it back to them for review. Bragi occasionally nudges him with suggestions for ad campaigns, and it’s like having another partner inside his head. The god has never before been so clear in communicating with him. He can’t tell if it’s the connection coming back stronger after he’d burnt it out, or if just being around Mitchell is having an effect. He’ll have to get in touch with Gaia and see if she has any more information for him.

Finally the flow of work starts winding down for the day, which is a relief because he’s running low on inspiration. A quick glance at the clock tells Anders it’s nearly 4:30, and he’d best head out if he wants to have everything ready for Mitchell. He can tell Dawn is getting tired too, her usually crisp typing is slowing and he notices she’s erasing almost more than she writes.

“Time to head home, Dawnsie.”

“But the day’s not over yet.”

“We’ve done a shit ton of work today, closing a half hour early isn’t going to hurt. I’m still the boss, I get to say when we’re done.”

“Yes sir,” she replies sarcastically, tossing him a sloppy salute.

“Sir, I like the sound of that,” he winks at her. She laughs fondly as he quickly gathers his things and heads for the door. “Have a good night, Dawn.”

“You too, Anders.”

“You’d better head home after you finish what you’re doing,” he gives her a stern look. “No overworking yourself.” He’s out the door before she can respond.

Anders has a number of stops to make on his way home. Usually liquor would be the first, but he’s actually pretty well stocked since he’s been going through it more slowly. Instead he heads to his favourite ‘toy’ store, picking up a few new things. One or two for that night, and a few more in anticipation for the future. It’s a nice feeling, being relatively certain that there will be future moments to look forward to with Mitchell. Anders really wants to make this a good night for them both, but is afraid he’s going to cock everything up by being his usual abrasive self. That’s why he winds up in an aisle with two different kinds of candles in his hands, staring desperately at all the choices. Are candles too much? Should he get flowers instead, or would that be too girly? Finally he just grabs a bag of tea lights off the shelf and hopes it won’t look like he’s trying too hard.

The final thing to pick up is their dinner. Anders can cook, but not anything particularly fancy. He doesn’t want to try a new recipe and have it end in disaster. Instead he’s ordered a couple nice entrees from his favourite seafood restaurant, hoping Mitchell will like at least one of them. He makes it home in good time to arrange the table nicely and set up a few things in the bedroom, closing the door so Mitchell doesn’t see them early. 

With everything set up, he steps back and surveys his work. There are a few tea lights scattered around the flat which cast a warm glow that adds a nice sense of atmosphere to the sun filtering through the curtains and the soft blue light from the fish tank. Their dinner is in the oven to stay warm, and a bottle of wine sits on the table waiting to be poured. He’s arranged their place settings flanking a corner, rather than across the table. It’s an intimate setting and he hopes it’s not too much. Before he can worry himself into changing it Bragi touches his mind soothingly. He can feel the god’s approval of the set up, and of the gift that sits in his sketchbook on the coffee table.

Anders takes a deep breath and forces himself to relax. Mitchell has already shown himself to be easygoing and they always have a good time together, this will be fine. He’s calm again when the buzzer goes, giving him a slight jolt as he remembers Natalie. Instead, Mitchell’s voice filters through the intercom. He buzzes him in, a glib remark ready on the tip of his tongue until he opens the door and actually sees the other man.

Mitchell is carrying his leather jacket, and the fit of the deep red shirt he’s wearing makes Anders’ mouth go dry. It outlines his biceps nicely. The Irishman has left the top few buttons undone which shows the blank tank underneath and just enough bare chest to tantalize. His snug black jeans make his legs look even longer, and when Anders gestures him in, he notices they show Mitchell’s arse off fantastically. The blond appreciates that he’s left off the gloves tonight. It’s the classiest he’s ever seen Mitchell look, and part of his mind starts fantasizing about convincing the vampire into a well tailored suit. So he could then convince him out of it later of course; but not, perhaps, before showing him off a little. It’s a thought for Anders to keep in mind the next time he needs a date for a work event. In the meantime, Anders is tempted to skip dinner in favour of investigating the gorgeous form filling out those clothes.

It seems Mitchell can read at least a little of what Anders is thinking as he tosses him a saucy wink before presenting him with some beer. “I know you said I didn’t have to bring anything, but I didn’t want to show up empty handed.” His smile turns a little shyer then, “this place looks great. It’s been awhile... no one’s really gone to this effort for me before.”

Anders smiles back, reassured that Mitchell appreciates the effort he’s put in. He’s a little startled that someone as fantastic as Mitchell hasn’t had anyone really court him before, but it means the other man is less likely to notice if he cocks up. “I’m happy you like it. You look amazing.” He grabs Mitchell by the hand to draw him over to the table, grabbing a kiss as he sits. “Did you want a beer with dinner?”

“Does beer go with dinner? If not, I’m happy with whatever you were planning to serve.”

“Probably best to save that for later then. Thanks for bringing it.” He pours Mitchell and himself glasses of wine before retrieving their dinner. There’s nearly an incident when he almost forgets oven mitts, but the food makes it to the table with no injuries.

The meal goes even more smoothly than Anders had hoped. Mitchell is delighted with both of the choices, and repeatedly attempts to steal bites from Anders’ plate as the blond tries to fend him off before stealing some of Mitchell’s in retaliation. Finally both of them relent and they end up feeding each other the occasional forkful of food. Anders usually sneers at couples who he sees doing that at restaurants, but here it feels - nice. The only awkward moment comes when...

“So why do you even eat?” Anders asks offhanded. “I mean eat real food. Don’t vampires just need to drink blood?”

Mitchell blanches slightly and stares fixedly at his plate while he answers. His words are halting, and Anders wishes he could take back his question. “It’s not need so much as desire... Blood is like a drug. It’s an addiction. As far as I can tell, we don’t have to drink in order to survive. One vampire I knew was clean for over twenty years.” The blond tries to interrupt, to tell Mitchell he didn’t have to keep talking, but a flash of hazel eyes stops him. He seems to feel the need to explain now that he’s begun.

“I say addiction because of the craving. When you’re first changed the desire gets stronger and stronger until you give in and feed. After that, it’s easier to keep going. The blood high helps you forget those you’ve killed. It’s that more than the physical withdrawal that makes it so hard to give up blood.” Mitchell is shaking slightly by the time he finishes, so Anders grabs his hand tightly in an effort to ground him. The brunet shoots him a grateful look, moreso when the blond resumes his earlier easy chatter with no further mention of blood. 

As they finish their meal, looks between them become more heated. Exchanging bites of food goes from playful to teasing. Finally Mitchell grabs the back of his neck and pulls him into a deep kiss, licking into Anders’ mouth. He can’t help the moan that bubbles up, the arousal that’s been simmering since Mitchell walked in cranked up to 11. All of Anders’ plans for dessert on the couch leading up to kissing and then bed are discarded. Bed first.

He stands, tugging Mitchell snug against his body. The other man reaches under his suit jacket to tug up his shirt, but Anders smacks his hand away. The brunet pulls back, startled, but Anders speaks before he gets the chance.

“You promised me yesterday I could have my way with you. Did you mean it?”

Mitchell eyes him slightly apprehensively, but licks his lips and nods. The blond feels him grow harder against his hip.

Anders smiles wickedly. “Good. Trust me?”

“Always,” is Mitchell’s hoarse reply. Anders is momentarily speechless at the quick response, but decides to think about that later.

“Good,” he forces his voice to remain firm. The god draws a silky black scarf from a pocket, showing it off to Mitchell. “Turn around. Tonight’s on my terms. No touching unless I say you can.” Arousal coils around the base of his spine at how easily Mitchell complies. Anders fixes the blindfold in place so the other can’t see anything and carefully guides him to the bedroom.

His first move once in the darkened room is to light the candles he’s left in there. While away from Mitchell, he takes the time to admire his body again. Christ, he wishes cameras could capture the vampire’s image. When Mitchell begins to fidget slightly, it’s his cue to shut the bedroom door and move in close. Anders forces himself to unfasten the brunet’s shirt one button at a time, when everything in him is screaming to just fuck Mitchell already. It feels agonizingly slow to take such care, but he’s pleased by the effect it’s having on Mitchell. He’s broken out in goose bumps all along his chest and shoulders, and his skin shivers every time Anders’ fingers brush past. His shirt sliding off his shoulders to puddle on the floor at his feet causes a full body shudder, and a gasp when the blond rubs the nipples showing through his thin tank.

Anders brushes his lips across Mitchell’s in a fleeting butterfly tease, tapping his mouth gently with a finger as he instinctively chases the sensation. The god slowly drags the hem of his tank out of his jeans and up his long torso, pausing occasionally to bend and press kisses and nips to the golden skin revealed. Carefully Anders draws the shirt over Mitchell’s head of curls, managing to avoid disturbing the blindfold. He’s a little surprised and a lot turned on at how submissive the vampire is being. He’s holding true to his word to allow Anders to have his way with him, and it’s the hottest thing Anders has ever seen. As he kneels to unlace the brunet’s boots, he has to adjust his aching cock in his trousers. Honestly, he feels like he’s going to come just from Mitchell allowing himself to be undressed. As it is, Anders is hot enough he has to shed his jacket and roll up his sleeves.

Once the boots are untied, he allows Mitchell to grab his hands for balance as the brunet toes off his footwear. Dropping Mitchell’s hands, Anders moves his own to Mitchell’s belt. He slowly unbuckles it and carefully draws the length of leather out to be discarded on the floor. The soft ‘fwip’ of the end coming loose sets up another shiver in the vampire. He can’t resist working the brunet up further, so he grabs at his hips and mouths at the line of Mitchell’s hard cock through the denim. Anders feels an answering surge of pleasure at the other’s loud moan, but still pulls away and grins widely at the whimper that follows. Anders firms his grip on the other man’s hips and stills his attempt to follow the pleasure. For the first time Mitchell loses his control over himself, and Anders has to block long fingers as they try to bury themselves in his hair to guide his head back.

“No touching.”

“Please...”

“No talking for that matter,” Anders decides, and ensures that any answer Mitchell might want to give his lost in another moan as his fingers brush inside the waistband of the other’s tight jeans. The blond pops the button open carefully, and draws the zipper down tooth by tooth. He tugs the jeans down far enough to bare the boxer briefs underneath, pleased by the large damp patch that has already formed. He adds to it by mouthing gently at Mitchell’s thick cock again, drawing a groan when he pulls away. Anders tugs both briefs and jeans to the floor before standing and encouraging Mitchell to step out of them.

He carefully leads the brunet to the bed, prodding him to lie down on his back. Anders gently covers Mitchell with his own body, bending to lick and suck a mark onto his long neck. There’s a warm burn of possession in his gut as he eyes the red mark. It prompts him to grind down into Mitchell’s groin, the brunet throwing his head back as he shudders with the friction from Anders’ still clothed body. While Mitchell is distracted by the feeling, Anders grabs a wrist and buckles one of his earlier purchases around it, quickly doing the same to the other before leaning back to survey his handiwork.

It takes Mitchell a moment to register the change, still caught up in the sensations he’d been receiving. Anders can tell he would be blinking in confusion were it not for the blindfold when he tries to shift his arms and is brought up short by the leather cuffs Anders had fastened to the bed frame earlier.

“Anders?” he says hesitantly.

“I said ‘no touching’. All you have to do tonight is feel.” Anders rubs his hands soothingly down his captive’s arms. “But if you want me to let you go, just nod.”

Mitchell swallows hard but shakes his head, “no, I trust you. I just thought you were kidding about the handcuffs.”

Anders has to laugh at that. “Kidding? Do you have any idea how incredible you look, all spread out for me like this?” He bends to licks his way up Mitchell’s ribcage teasingly. “Helpless.” A biting kiss to his collarbone. “At my mercy,” he whispers against Mitchell’s lips. The brunet moans and presses up into a proper kiss. Anders lets him for a moment before drawing away again. “Mine,” he growls low and dark, and Mitchell moans again in response. 

“Want to look at you properly.” Anders pulls back and off the bed. He can’t stand being dressed one more minute, needs to feel Mitchell’s skin against his. As he hurriedly strips off his clothes, he studies Mitchell’s body. The candles were definitely a good choice, Mitchell’s miles of smooth skin practically glow golden in their flickering light. The soft shadows cast just make him more alluring.

“I want to draw you like this,” Anders muses, not quite aware he’s speaking aloud. “You look incredible, tied down and waiting for me. Leave you helpless and unsatisfied until I capture you on paper.”

Mitchell keens, “no, Anders, please. Don’t make me wait that long. Please, touch me.”

“I thought I told you not to speak. I do like the way you beg though.” Walking around the bed as he thinks, he can see Mitchell’s head tilting as the vampire tracks his movements. He’s not sure where this desire to dominate is coming from, but he wants to make the other man writhe and plead for him. Maybe it’s because Mitchell could so easily overpower him, but is letting Anders have control. “I have an idea.” He pauses for effect and watches Mitchell’s muscles grow taut as he waits, allowing the tension to ratchet higher before continuing.

“For speaking when I ordered you not to, I’m going to gag you with my cock and you’re going to suck me off. Then I’m going to play with you until I’m ready to fuck you, but you don’t get to come until I say so.”

Mitchell whines at the idea of waiting longer to come but obediently holds his protest. Anders is cautious as he moves to straddle the brunet’s chest, and places a pillow under his head to make it easier on him. As Anders shifts up the bed to kneel in place, he brushes a thigh over Mitchell’s side and smiles at the gasp. The blond looks down at his captive’s face and almost regrets the blindfold. The black silk looks lovely against Mitchell’s skin, and it matches the wild curls spilling out from beneath, but it would also be lovely to see his hazel eyes looking up and watching everything Anders is doing.

Anders braces one hand against the wall and uses the other to grasp his cock firmly. He rubs the head, already slick with pre-cum, against Mitchell’s plush lips. The feeling of soft skin against the head of his cock draws out a moan and he comes close to just pushing in immediately. 

“Is this alright?”

Mitchell nods and parts his slick lips in invitation.

“Snap if you need me to stop. Can you do that?” No sooner has Mitchell nodded again than Anders is sliding in to his open mouth. It’s glorious slick wet warmth as the brunet’s tongue laps around the head and slips into the slit, drawing a groan from the blond. It’s somehow even better because Mitchell’s mouth is cooler than expected, the difference in sensation sending his arousal spiralling.

“Fuck, Mitchell, you feel so good,” he grunts, starting a slow, shallow pace. He’s not going to last long, not as worked up as he already is, not with the sloppy suction around his cock. Removing his hand from the base, he places it on the wall with the other and dares to move a little deeper. He’s striking the back of Mitchell’s throat on every thrust and the other man is taking it easily, his throat muscles swallowing around Anders almost painfully tightly. The brunet hums around a particularly deep thrust and Anders’ orgasm hits out of nowhere like a lightning strike. He’s not even aware of the filth he’s babbling as the force of it whites out his brain.

“So fucking amazing. You suck cock so well, take it like you were made to. Christ, Mitch, wanted to keep fucking your throat forever.” He has to prop himself against the wall as he recovers so he doesn’t just collapse onto Mitchell. His breath heaves out of him in great shudders as the aftershocks zing across his nerves. Mitchell has turned his head to bite a gentle trail along his thigh, and it just draws out the sensations longer while he comes down. His heart is slow to return from the frantic pace. Eventually he manages to push himself away from the wall and shift down the bed to tuck himself alongside Mitchell.

“Shit, that was fantastic,” Anders mutters, leaning in to kiss the brunet softly. He can tell from the way Mitchell smiles that he’s pleased with himself. It just makes him determined that Mitchell will be at least as blissed out and boneless when Anders is finished with him. The smile disappears into a sudden gasp when Anders finds a nipple and tweaks it.

“I’m not finished with you yet,” the blond purrs into his ear. Mitchell tenses at the reminder and tugs slightly at the cuffs binding him to the bed.

“Struggle if you like, you promised I could have my way with you, and I intend to.” The brunet whines as Anders lightly drags his nails across the skin stretched over Mitchell’s ribs, using his other hand to wind into the thick curls and pull him into a firm kiss. The Irishman responds eagerly, arching into the kiss and the gentle touches across his torso.

“No talking. If you need me to stop, snap your fingers,” he commands, giving the curls a tug to emphasize his point. Anders isn’t expecting the cry that bubbles out of Mitchell’s throat at the motion.

“So you like having your hair pulled?” The nod only tugs at his curls again, drawing out a whine. Anders has to bite at Mitchell’s shoulder to stifle a moan of his own. He’s already feeling the low burn of arousal again. Mitchell isn’t going to have to wait long to get fucked, his noises and reactions are all an incredible turn on for the blond.

He’d best get started. Anders wants the brunet writhing and pleading by the time he’s ready to go again. He latches on to the other’s neck, sucking another mark of possession into soft skin. One hand remains buried in Mitchell’s hair, scratching across his scalp gently while the other explores the smattering of silky dark fur on his chest. Anders enjoys the reactions he gets as his fingers follow the trail down, little twitches and cries. The vampire keens when his fingers stop short of where the brunet wants them. Instead he trails his hand back up the other’s side and follows the path his fingers have taken with his mouth. He’s not sure which other them is more surprised at Mitchell’s squirm and high-pitched giggle when Anders’ tongue dips into his navel. The blond is tempted to investigate this weakness further, but moves into cataloguing every dip and curve of Mitchell’s musculature.

As lean as the vampire looks when clothed, he’s got an impressive physique and Anders is thoroughly enjoying his chance to explore it fully. The chance to touch and play unimpeded is part of why Mitchell’s tied to the bed. Periodically he pauses to leave small love bites and bruises, and by the time he pulls back to survey the man beneath him, Mitchell is mottled with light marks and scratches. He’s also panting for breath and releasing small sounds of pleasure and disappointment that Anders is still neglecting his cock, jutting out thick and flushed darkly with blood. The blond isn’t quite sure how the mechanics of that work for someone lacking a heartbeat, or for that matter why he’s panting for breath he doesn’t need, but now isn’t the time to ask.

Bending, Anders licks across Mitchell’s nipple before closing his lips around it and biting gently, tugging on the brunet curls just to hear Mitchell keen. He plays with the Irishman’s dusky nubs while the other man writhes at the stimulation. Finally he takes pity on how worked up Mitchell is and wraps his hand around the so far neglected erection. Mitchell’s head drops back on a long, drawn out groan as his hips buck up into Anders’ fist. The blond keeps his touch light and teasing as his fingers dance across the thick member. They explore the velvet smooth skin of the head, pausing to smear around the copious pre-cum from his long tease. He uses the slick to lubricate a few long strokes before pulling off again, Mitchell whining as his hips rock up in search of friction. 

He doesn’t want to get Mitchell off yet though, so his hand dips lower to explore the sac hanging below. It’s a lightly furred bundle of soft, wrinkled skin; and Anders enjoys the weight of it in his hand as he rolls the stones gently. Mitchell moans at the sensation, but would clearly prefer if Anders would move his hand back to his weeping cock. Instead, the blond’s clever fingers shift to explore his perineum, brushing across with light fingertips as Mitchell spreads his legs wider. He moves his head down from where he’s been kissing across the brunet’s collarbone, teasing Mitchell with lips and fingers but never enough to get him off. 

Anders is enjoying having the other man entirely at his mercy, pausing a moment with just the head of Mitchell’s cock in his mouth as he watches the long body writhe in pleasure. He’s hard again just from watching Mitchell, listening to the fantastic noises he makes, and the musky scent of his arousal. Suddenly he doesn’t want to tease anymore and looks around for the lube. Sadly, that’s one of the things he forgot to put out when he was setting up, along with a condom. Anders almost launches himself off the bed to retrieve them, clumsily kneeing Mitchell in the side in the process.

Mitchell whines loudly in confusion when he feels Anders’ weight leave him. “Anders, what? Don’t go.”

Anders is quick to reassure him, realizing that Mitchell can’t see what he’s doing. “It’s okay, I just need to grab a condom and the lube.” He notices sadly that Mitchell’s erection has flagged a bit with the interruption, but he intends to have him completely worked up again soon enough. Anders retrieves the supplies as quickly as he can and covers Mitchell with his body, pulling him into a filthy kiss.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” He closes his hand around Mitchell and strokes him back into full hardness. Anders pulls back only slightly in order to thoroughly coat his fingers with lube before placing the pad of his index finger at Mitchell’s entrance, massaging the muscles gently. The brunet moans as his hole relaxes enough to allow the tip of Anders’ finger in.

The blond is cautious as he begins to stretch Mitchell, but he takes it easily and soon Anders has two fingers inside scissoring gently. Mitchell is panting again in between cries, his body pushing back as he tries to get Anders’ fingers deeper. The blond is enjoying the sight, especially when his fingers brush the bump of Mitchell’s prostate and every muscle in his body tenses at the intense sensation. On the next pass he presses more firmly and once again takes advantage of Mitchell’s hair kink, enjoying the keen and shudder from the dual stimulation. Anders can tell that Mitchell is close to tipping over the edge from the long tease, and finishes stretching him without pressing his buttons too much further. The blond wants to be buried deep inside when the other man comes.

Anders finds himself moaning slightly in anticipation as he tears the foil packet with his teeth and rolls the condom on. The sensations dance across his nerves as he slicks himself with more lube and smears the excess around Mitchell’s rim.

“Ready?” he asks, getting impossibly harder as Mitchell keens in response and tilts his hips up. It feels incredible when he slowly sinks into that tight body, cooler than his own. He’s never felt anything like it, the temperature variation teasing at his nerves. He pauses to savour the sensation and allow Mitchell to adjust, beginning to move only when the other man bucks up his hips in clear demand. Suddenly, he can’t bear to keep looking at the blindfold and reaches up to tear it off. Hazel eyes blink rapidly, tearing up a little at the sudden change, but Mitchell gives him a soft smile when they adjust to the flickering candle light. Anders keeps his pace slow at first, enjoying the slow drag in and out, trying to find the angle to brush across Mitchell’s prostate. He’s startled when Mitchell speaks, the other had been so good at following orders.

“Thought you said I was going to feel you for days when you fucked me,” comes the gravelly challenge.

Anders raises an eyebrow at Mitchell, pinned under him. “This not enough for you?” he asks, thrusting a bit harder and drawing out a faint grunt.

“Didn’t say that, this feels pretty fantastic. Just thought you’d be taking more advantage of having me at your mercy. I won’t break with a bit of rough handling.” Anders would normally be hurt by an implied dig at his skill in bed, but Mitchell had been careful about his phrasing. He can see the glint of challenge in Mitchell’s hazel eyes and hear the warmth in his voice. It’s not a slight against him, it’s permission to take. His blood is suddenly on fire, and all travelling in one direction.

Anders pauses in his movements, staring down at Mitchell with a hunger mirrored back in the other’s eyes. He grabs Mitchell by the hair roughly and pulls him up into a bruising kiss, biting on his lower lip and smiling against his mouth as he keens. Then Anders is moving to sit up, still buried in Mitchell’s body as he tucks his knees under himself. One of Mitchell’s long legs is pulled to wrap around his waist and the other to rest over his shoulder.

“Hold on,” he murmurs, leaning forward slightly and pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in hard. He can tell he’s found the right angle by the way Mitchell clenches around Anders’ length.

Anders sets up a brutal pace, fucking Mitchell hard and fast. The brunet has to brace his hands against the wall to keep himself from shifting too far, curling his leg tightly around the blond’s waist to provide leverage so he can push back against his thrusts. He’s crying out almost continuously as Anders pounds into him, and Anders can tell he won’t last much longer. That’s alright though, because neither will Anders. The tight clench of Mitchell’s body around his cock combined with the way the brunet looks with his pupils blown wide, sweaty and flushed...well, he’s not going to be able to hang on long. He can tell Mitchell’s on the edge, he just needs a push to topple over.

Leaning so far forward Mitchell is almost bent in half, he gets a good grip on Mitchell’s curls and pulls, whispering, “come for me,” in his ear. The brunet practically wails as his release hits, arching hard off the bed while his come spatters nearly to his chin. The spasms of his internal muscles, stronger than any Anders has felt before, set the blond off as well. 

Anders groans as his hips stutter forward and he empties himself into the condom. He keeps fucking Mitchell through his orgasm, setting off aftershocks that shudder through both of them as they moan. The blond has to move Mitchell’s leg off his shoulder so he can collapse, panting against him.

“Shit, that was...” he mumbles against Mitchell’s shoulder.

“Fucking brilliant.”

“Yeah.”

They lay in silence for a time. Anders grimaces as he realizes he’s now got Mitchell’s sticky seed smeared all over his chest. Once he’s finally got his breath back, he peels himself up to go retrieve a damp washcloth. It’s not until he’s cleaned them both up and disposed of the condom that he notices Mitchell watching him expectantly. The other man has to shake his wrists before he figures out why.

“I suppose I should take the cuffs off.”

“That would be appreciated, yes,” Mitchell responds dryly.

His hands are on the buckles before he hesitates. “But you look so good like this.”

“Anders...”

The blond gives in with an exaggerated sigh. “Fine.” He unfastens the leather quickly, taking care to look both of Mitchell’s wrists over carefully and massage his arms.

“I’m good, thanks.” Mitchell opens his arms and the blond curls up close, wondering when exactly he became a cuddler. It’s probably the fantastic sex, he can’t be held responsible for his actions with all these endorphins rushing through his system. He carefully ignores the fact that the first time Mitchell stayed over, they woke up tangled together on the couch and no sex was involved.

“So, are you going to be able to feel me for a week?” he asks cheekily.

“Not for lack of trying, but no.” Feeling Anders begin to stiffen in his arms, Mitchell continues, “I’m a vampire, love. You’d have to seriously damage me to feel it a week later. It was incredible, I think I blacked out a bit when I came and I didn’t even know that was possible. You can have your wicked way with me whenever you want.”

Low heat pools in his belly at the offer. He wishes he had another go in him. “Well, that’s alright then,” is his casual response, not wanting to let on that he’d almost been hurt when he’s now feeling pretty much exactly the opposite. Instead of another round though, he finds himself drifting off to sleep in Mitchell’s arms. A thought about his gift for the other man drifts up, but he brushes it off. Anders can always give it to him tomorrow. He’s had two incredible orgasms, it’s time for sleep.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read, kudos'd, or reviewed the last chapter. Seems people liked the smut ^_^ Thanks also to TheGreenSorceress and datsunblue for their ongoing help with this story. You guys are all fantastic. Hope you enjoy!

Mitchell heaves a sigh as he wipes down a recently vacated table in the pub. He wishes he’d let Anders persuade him to skive off work, but it’s not like there’s a ton of other employees to cover him if he does that. On top of which, it’s foolish to fake sick when his flat is above the bar. It would be easy for Cooper to check up on him and see that he’d lied. 

It’s not so much that he minds working, but he misses Anders. He hasn’t seen the blond since the morning after their fantastic dinner date. Anders had woken late and was forced to rush out the door for a client meeting before they could exchange more than a few kisses. They’d had plans to meet up again that night, but the god had been called to some family thing and thought it best not to bring him along. Instead, he’d spent the time texting Mitchell complaints about his brothers, mostly Mike.

“You seem distracted tonight, mate,” Cooper smacks a friendly hand down on Mitchell’s shoulder and he has to check the urge to snarl in surprise. “Problem?”

“Not really a problem. It’s just... I’ve started seeing someone and he works more regular business hours. With my shifts here it’s hard to spend time with him.”

“Ah, sorry to hear that. You’re not thinking of quitting, are you?”

“What? No, of course not. You’re a great person to work for, and it’s nice having the flat. Just wishful thinking is all.”

“Glad to hear you’re planning to stay. You’re a good employee.” Cooper walks off with another friendly clap to the back. He’s been spending most of his time in the tiny office catching up on paperwork since it was a slow night. Mitchell surveys the mostly empty room and sighs again. There’s not much for him to do aside from clean and think. Well, no, that’s not quite true. Inspired, he pulls his cell out to text Anders.

It’s a slow night. Entertain me, oh god of poetry. It’s a tease, but also a plea. He needs to be distracted tonight. The craving for blood is the strongest it’s been since he moved to New Zealand. It’s a relief the pub is as empty as it is, as dull as it’s made his night. The lack of people also means a lack of temptation, fewer humans to make his mouth water. Still, despite the hunger, today’s not the hardest it’s been. Working in a hospital; being around all those people, all that blood, weak and vulnerable and trusting...that had been much more difficult. Here, there’s no more Herrick and he has a powerful reason to stay clean. Mitchell couldn’t stand going to Anders with fresh blood on his hands. Wouldn’t risk being around him when blood drunk.

Oh, I see, call on me for amusement? Think I’m your pet god? ;) Anders has an excellent sense of timing, dragging Mitchell out of his dark thoughts. He absorbs himself in the banter, the easy back and forth they’ve fallen into in their time together.

With the distraction provided by Anders, the rest of his shift passes quickly. Cooper ducks out of the office around midnight and, seeing as they have no more customers, declares that they’re calling it a night. “No point in staying open if there’s no one to serve. Any poor sods wanting a drink now can wander off somewhere else.”

Mitchell finishes closing quickly, most of it already done during the slow night. He contemplates seeing if Anders is up for a late visit, but with the blood cravings he doesn’t want to risk it. He hasn’t wanted to feed off the blond so far but he doesn’t trust himself. It’s a good night to see if George is around, have that Skype chat he’s been putting off.

He’s disappointed when he logs in and George isn’t online, but he’s not ready to go to bed just yet so he dicks around on the internet for a bit. Of all the things humanity has invented in the century since he was turned, the internet is one of the strangest and most fascinating. The sheer amount of knowledge (and misinformation) available is simply staggering. The cruelty allowed through anonymity is less admirable, but he’s seen more than enough of the darker side of human nature to know that tendency has always been there. It’s just easier to find likeminded people on the internet, to agree with views that can’t be voiced in public. The flip side is that it allows isolated and vulnerable people to realize they aren’t alone. The communities they’ve created to support each other are more than Mitchell ever could have imagined as a lonely child. He’s developed a secret fondness for ‘lolcats’ himself, but isn’t a part of any groups. There isn’t exactly an internet forum for vampires who’ve chosen to abstain from feeding.

Mitchell almost forgets what he turned on the laptop for in the first place, lost in a Norse mythology site reading about the pantheon Anders belongs to. He’ll have to ask the blond how many of these stories are true. He hopes the one about Loki and the horse is just a myth. Sadly, there’s not that much about Bragi, although he is fascinated to learn that Bragi was the guardian of Odin’s hall in Asgard. The god had been given the position because it was impossible to lie to him. The vampire wonders if his vessel also has that ability. Not that he has any intention of lying to Anders, but detecting lies would be useful...he probably can’t though, or else he would have seen through Natalie.

Mitchell is nearly ready to give up and head to bed when George signs in. Seconds later, he’s got an invitation to video chat. Hopefully this time his friend will remember that vampires can’t be seen on camera.

But ghosts apparently can be he learns when he accepts the call and the faces of George and Annie fill the screen. Her image is slightly transparent and hazy around the edges, but solidly visible.

“Mitchell!” is Annie’s enthusiastic greeting, but her smile dulls when she doesn’t see him. “Are you there?”

He chuckles. “I’m here, Annie. It’s like vampires and mirrors, I can’t be seen. You’re doing better than George though, first time I called he started panicking because he thought a ghost was possessing Skype.”

“Mitchell!” George shrieks indignantly as Annie starts to laugh. “You didn’t have to tell her that!”

“It’s a good story, George. Anyways, it couldn’t have been a ghost because I can see Annie.”

“You can see me? That’s amazing! How do I look?” The vampire grins at her enthusiasm, and takes a moment to study her. The grin falls a little when he sees that she looks tired, but the usual sparkle is still present in her dark eyes. George hadn’t been kidding when he’d said she was wearing one of the plaid shirts Mitchell had left behind, or about how ridiculous it was. It wasn’t just that it was far too large for her. Annie’d chosen one with loud bright green and purple that he’d mostly ‘forgotten’ so it wouldn’t be in his closet any longer. It’s nice to see colour on her to brighten up the drab grey, but did it have to be those colours?

“You look good. Although, wasn’t there a better shirt left behind for you to wear? Why did you choose that one?”

“I meant how do I look on camera,” she retorts. “And I picked this one because it’s the warmest.”

“Annie, you’re a ghost. How the hell would you know which shirt is the warmest?” George demands.

“I can feel it,” Annie responds calmly. “Mitchell, you need to call us more often! I can’t believe I was actually out the last time.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t been calling more. I miss you guys. It’s just difficult to plan for with the time difference.” He pauses, remembering there’s an alternate way to contact him now. 

“Oh, my boyfriend got me a phone, so you can try calling that way too.” He rattles off the numbers while glancing at the phone to ensure he has them correct and looks up to stunned expressions. “What?”

“Boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend?!” Annie’s eager to hear more, where George’s pitch is somewhere up there with dog whistles. Right, he hadn’t mentioned that bit yet... Probably best to leave off the whole ‘gods’ thing for now. The Johnsons had seemed pretty secretive about that anyways.

“Yeah, boyfriend. His name is Anders.”

Annie takes over the questioning as George still has a stunned look on his face. “Where did you meet him? How long have you been going out? What does he look like? Does he know you’re a vampire?”

Mitchell has to interject before she can rattle off any more questions. “Geez Annie, slow down. You don’t have to ask his whole life history in one breath.

“I met him on the plane actually. He was in the seat next to me and we just started talking. I’m not really sure how long to say I’ve been seeing him, we never had the whole ‘are we dating?’ conversation. As for what he looks like, I’ll just have to introduce you some time so you can see for yourself. And yes, he knows I’m a vampire. There was a...situation, and it came up.”

“C’mon, Mitchell, details! You never even told us you like blokes, you can’t blame me for being curious.” She’s reacting pretty much as he was expecting, and the familiarity helps soothe the tension he’s been carrying all evening. It’s safe talking to these two, he hasn’t hurt anyone all night and he’s not going to. Mitchell laughs loudly at Annie’s insistence, grinning widely though his friends can’t see him. He’s relieved that she hasn’t asked more about the situation he’d glossed over.

“It’s still early days yet, Annie. I don’t want to spill everything and have things not work out. As for liking blokes, I take things as they come. It’s more about the person for me.” 

Annie sighs, cradling her chin in her hands. “That’s so romantic. I hope things work out with Anders. 

“Honestly though, you two are so closemouthed about your relationships,” she smacks George on the shoulder and narrows her eyes at Mitchell. “I have to live vicariously through you, I think it’s only fair I get to grill you once in a while.”

“Fair?” George finally pipes back in. “I should be asking you about my girlfriend. I’m pretty sure she tells you more lately.”

“How are you and Nina, George?” Mitchell asks, resisting the urge to specifically prompt him about the werewolf thing or the full moon. Giving it away if Nina hasn’t told him yet certainly wouldn’t improve her opinion of the vampire.

George’s face crumples. “She...I-I gave her the curse. When she ran into the room that night with Herrick, I scratched her. Oh, Mitchell, I don’t know what to do! She’s so angry and I can’t tell if it’s at me or just the situation or...”

“Bloody hell,” Mitchell runs his hands through his hair in agitation. “I’m sorry, George. I thought that might have happened, I wish I hadn’t been right.”

“Mitch...what, you – you knew? A-a-and you didn’t say anything?” George’s voice climbs in pitch and volume as he speaks, eyes glassy with unshed tears.

“I didn’t know for sure, vampires can’t smell a werewolf until after the first transformation. But – I smelled blood that night. It was just so chaotic it was hard to tell who it was or how they got hurt.” George calms a bit before Mitchell continues, “but even if I had known, it was still for her to tell you.” The werewolf seems at a loss for words at the gentle insistence.

Mitchell sighs again. “Look, just tell Nina I’m sorry, and that I hoped I was wrong. As for what to do, support her as much as you can. Teach her what you’ve learned about living with the condition. Help her as much as she’ll let you,” he adds ruefully, knowing the prickly nurse is fiercely independent and will probably be difficult about accepting assistance. “Keep in mind that being angry about this is pretty natural. You were much the same when I met you, had a go at me more than once just for being there.”

George breaks into a shaky smile and nods. “Did I ever really thank you for sticking with me after that day in the alley? You saved me, mate. Showed me that I still had a life, even if it wasn’t the one I’d been expecting. And you’re still looking out for me even half a world away.”

“You saved me too.” George starts to deny it, but the vampire cuts him off before he can really begin. “No, listen. I’ve realized some things being here, with the distance it’s given me from all of that. When you took care of Herrick, you freed me from him. And not just in that I don’t have to look over my shoulder for him any longer. 

“I think, as my sire, Herrick had a sort of mental influence as well. Since his death, it’s been far easier to control the hunger. I’m not thinking the same way anymore. Not looking to justify myself or my actions, or to make excuses. So thank you, you lifted a burden from me I didn’t even know I had. I think I may actually succeed in giving up blood for good.”

“Oh, like you’ve never said that before,” a new voice sneers. Mitchell can see Nina over George’s shoulder. It looks like she’s just gotten off shift, her scrubs are wrinkled and spotty and her hair is tousled. She looks exhausted and he can tell it’s not just from a long workday.

“Hello, Nina. Yes, I’ve said it before. Hopefully this will be the last time,” he responds neutrally, trying to keep his frustration with her attitude out of his tone. “I heard about what’s happened to you, I’m sorry.”

“So they told you I’m infected,” her voice is bitter. “Lovely. Well, save your sympathies, as far as I’m concerned this is all your fault. You were the one who encouraged George to get out more after all. You were the one who set us up, not caring about what could happen to me.”

“Nina!” George sounds scandalized. Mitchell can’t quite tell how much is from her accusations and how much from her voicing them so rudely. He can be so terribly proper and British sometimes.

“I’m sorry you feel that way. If I can do anything to help, please let me know,” his offer is sincere, but he highly doubts Nina will ever take him up on it. He holds back from directly responding to the blame laid on him, and from pointing out that all three of them had tried to protect her from that situation and stop her from going into the room that night. One of these days Mitchell is finally going to call her out on her hypocrisy, demanding that he take responsibility for everything while she can ignore her own faults. At least if she’s concentrated on him, she might not be so hard on poor George.

“Save it. I don’t want any of your help,” Nina spits out the last word before turning on her heel and striding away.

“Nina!” George calls again, tone wavering between pleading and distraught. A moment later he flinches as they all hear a door slam. His gaze darts between the laptop screen and the hallway she’s disappeared down.

“Go, George, it’s alright. We can talk later,” Mitchell reassures him.

The other man grimaces, but agrees. “I’m sorry she’s like that with you. It’s good to hear you’re doing well. Say ‘hi’ to your bloke, Anders you said?... tell him I said ‘hi’. Introduce us on Skype at some point? At least then we’ll have someone we can see.” He looks panicked suddenly, “unless...?”

The Irishman chuckles. “No, Anders appears on camera. Go, calm down your girlfriend.” As George disappears from view, he turns his attention to Annie. “You’ve been quiet.”

She looks contemplative. “You and he needed to talk. And I wasn’t going to interrupt Nina mid-rant. We need someone around here she’s not brassed off with.”

“Probably a good idea,” he agrees. “How have you been? Has...has anything changed since...the door?”

Annie’s eyes look sad, but she smiles. “George was right. Even on the other side of the planet you’re still looking out for us. Nina will come ‘round eventually and see that. As for the door, there were a few...complications.” As if she can see how Mitchell’s face darkens with concern, she hurries to reassure him. “But it’s fine now, it’s all sorted. My abilities are stronger than ever! I’ve even got a job in a pub!”

Mitchell laughs. “That’s odd. I work in a pub too.” They fall into easy chatter about their jobs and the customers. What few Annie’s job gets anyways. It’s probably for the best, too many people and too much stress might make Annie’s abilities go...wonky again. He loses himself in the familiar give and take of talking to her. It sounds like the manager of the bar has a crush on her, although she’s typically oblivious. The vampire does his best to ignore the occasional muffled exclamation from George and Nina. They’re clearly arguing, although from Annie’s lack of reaction at least they’re being quiet about it.

Eventually though, the need for sleep catches up with him. He yawns widely as Annie tells an amusing story about the manager – Hugh, from the pub. Even though she can’t see him, she pauses.

“Mitchell?”

“Sorry,” he yawns again. I’m enjoying talking to you, but it’s after 3 am here. I should be off to bed.”

“Oh, of course. I’ll let you go then, but you’d better call more often. We miss you.”

He promises again to do his best. “I miss you guys too.” Annie opens her mouth to add something else but he speaks before she can. “And I promise I’ll get Anders on sooner or later.”

She pouts ruefully, knowing he’s caught her out. “Fine then. Tell him I said ‘hello’ as well.”

They sign off, exchanging more goodbyes and promises to talk soon. Mitchell has to shut down the call before she can start rambling, smiling at her inability to simply end a conversation. There’s always just one more thing she thinks of. Finally he puts the laptop away so he can collapse into bed. It was good to hear that overall his friends are doing alright. Hopefully George and Nina can work things out, and he’d not liked the shadows in Annie’s eyes when she’d mentioned ‘complications’; but they’re both smiling. Maybe things are looking up for all three of them. He really will have to introduce them to Anders.

As Mitchell strips off for bed, he finds himself contemplating his rings. One of them is a reminder of when he’d been human, a heavy silver band engraved with knotwork. It had been a confirmation gift from his grandmother, along with the traditional cross lost when he’d become a vampire. He kind of wants to gift the ring to Anders. He really enjoys being with the blond, and he wants to give him something meaningful. He’d done the same for Josie, leaving a piece of his history with a person who made him feel human again. 

The brunet takes the ring off and studies it for a long time. It’s old and worn, pewter rather than silver because that’s what his family could afford. Despite that, it’s a well crafted piece. For now, he sets it down on the table with the others.

Mitchell supposes he could give the blond one of the other rings, but they don’t have nearly the same significance. The others were chosen at various times to match the one he already had. They’re nice enough, but easily replaceable. His gift should mean more, recognize all that Anders has done. He welcomed Mitchell into his life, and trusted him even after seeing him ready to kill. Josie is the only other person to really accept him that way. Anders has been nothing but generous and Mitchell wants to thank him for that.

With his decision made, the brunet curls up for sleep. He’ll give Anders the ring when the time feels right.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all are still enjoying this fic! Thanks to everyone who's been following for the past fifteen chapters ^_^ As always, thanks go out to the wonderful TheGreenSorceress and datsunblue.
> 
> A warning for this chapter, withdrawal symptoms and slight flashback to past abuse. And if anyone has been triggered by anything in this fic, please let me know. I would be happy to add it as a warning before chapters and in the tags.

Anders looks at the stack of paperwork remaining and drops his head to the desk with a thump. He wants to bring j:pr back into good standing, but this week had been ridiculous. They’d gained two new clients and most of their existing ones had wanted work done. On top of that, an executive at the crappy dog food company had posted some unwise things on Facebook and he’d had to spend most of a day dealing with that. The man had refused to post an apology or retract his statements until Anders finally used Bragi to talk him around.

He really needed to speak to Gaia about the augmentation she’d mentioned. Usually Bragi wouldn’t work on such a determinedly stubborn asshole, but he definitely hadn’t ‘forced’ it like he had with Natalie. If his powers were improving this much just being around Mitchell, how much more control would he have if they deliberately did something? Anders is hoping that any improvement would help him with the Hunters. He really wants to get that taken care of as soon as possible. 

Mike had called a meeting about dealing with them on Tuesday, but it had been pointless. The brothers hadn’t been able to agree on anything aside from the previous decision not to set Loki on them. Stacey was the only one with a useful suggestion, agreeing to visit the church under cover with Olaf to try to find out more. It was unlikely the Hunters know either of them are vessels so it should be safe enough. The rest of the meeting had Mike bitching Anders out for various things, mostly for bringing Mitchell along previously. Oh, and agreeing to help Ty become mortal, but Mitchell seems to have trumped that in importance. Probably Mike felt threatened by the vampire, although he didn’t know that bit yet. Finally Anders concluded there was no point in staying any longer to get shouted at and walked out. It was a hell of a thing to have cancelled a date with Mitchell for.

Anders’ hands lift to massage some of the aching tension out of the muscles in the back of his neck. His back is nothing but a mass of knots from long hours at his desk. He’s been staying very late most nights this week to keep on top of all the work. If this keeps up, he’ll have to hire a secretary just so Dawn is free to take care of other things. They still haven’t had a chance to sit down and discuss her promotion, but fortunately she’d been understanding when he attempted to apologize for the delay in honouring his promise.

Raising his head from the desk, Anders scrubs a hand through his hair, mussing the slicked back curls. He eyes his watch and sees that it’s already after six. 

“That’s it Dawn, it’s after six on a Friday and we are calling it a day. Put down what you’re doing, it’s the weekend,” Anders announces briskly. He’s not sitting at this desk for a second longer this week.

“But...” Dawn begins.

“...but we’ve had an exhausting week,” he cuts her off. “There’s nothing here that can’t wait for Monday. We’ll both do better work after a break.”

She sighs heavily, but agrees. “I feel like I should keep arguing, but I’m too relieved. I just want to go home and have a hot bath.”

Anders gives her a rueful smile. “I know you’re used to needing to argue me into actually getting work done lately, and I’m sorry for that. Not anymore. Go home, have a relaxing weekend, and treat yourself to something nice. I’ll see you on Monday.”

Neither of them bother tidying their desks, too tired to care. They’ll only have to pull it all out again after the weekend. With their eagerness it only takes them minutes to vacate the office. Anders wants to go home and collapse into bed; but he also wants to see Mitchell. His growling stomach makes the decision for him and he finds himself heading to The Dog’s Bollix.

Mitchell greets him with a wide smile when he walks in. “Anders! It’s good to see you, how are you?” the brunet asks, showing him to a table.

“Ugh, so tired,” Anders responds, slumping into the chair with a groan. “j:pr is doing almost too well these days.” He’s about to continue when Mitchell is called away by another customer.

“Sorry about this, I’ll be right back to take your order. It’s relatively quiet tonight though, I might actually be able to have a chance to talk this time.”

“It’s fine, just order me whatever’s good tonight,” Anders calls as the other man turns to look after another table. Waiting for him to come back, Anders buries his head in crossed arms. He must lose time because the next thing he knows is Mitchell sliding a plate of fish and chips in front of his nose. The blond is so hungry he digs in right away, huffing around the first mouthful when he scorches his tongue on the hot food.

“Take it easy, love, that just came out of the fryer,” Mitchell warns a little too late, laughter choked back as he passes him a glass of water to cool the burn.

“You couldn’t have mentioned that before?” Anders grumbles indistinctly.

“I didn’t exactly expect you to do a good impression of a hoover. Have you been eating properly? You’re looking a bit pale.”

If there’s one thing he wouldn’t have expected from Mitchell after learning he’s a vampire, it’s his tendency to take care of people. Anders isn’t used to people being genuinely concerned for his well-being, but it seems to come naturally to the Irishman. It’s simultaneously comforting and disconcerting. From the bits and pieces Mitchell has mentioned about his old flatmates, he was probably the same way with them.

“I’m fine,” he responds when his mouth stops stinging so badly. “It’s just been busy at work so I’ve skipped a few meals. Resting this weekend should have me good as new.”

Mitchell looks unconvinced, but quiet for a Friday doesn’t mean the pub is actually empty and another table needs his attention. He drifts in and out of conversation with Anders as the blond goes back to his meal more cautiously. The brunet had ordered well for him, the food is deliciously filling. Anders is so hungry that he manages to clean his plate. When he leans back in his chair, he’s satisfied, almost uncomfortably full, and getting sleepy. Mitchell doesn’t help with the last when he drifts back and puts his clever fingers to work on the knots winding Anders’ shoulders tight.

“Mmm, if we weren’t in public, I would be moaning shamelessly right now,” Anders purrs under the attention. “That feels fantastic. Don’t ever stop.”

Mitchell chuckles, bending down slightly to speak quietly near Anders’ ear. “I didn’t know you had a sense of shame,” he teases. “Though I do appreciate it, that kind of scene might not go over too well with my boss. I’d like to keep your moans to myself anyways.”

Anders snorts a laugh. “There’s a thought. I could make a scene and get you fired so you have to find a job with more regular hours.” He doesn’t respond to the part about Mitchell wanting to keep his moans to himself, but he finds he’s not opposed to that kind of exclusivity. Anders hasn’t even thought of picking up someone else for a root since that first night meeting up with Mitchell, something completely outside the realm of his experience. He’s far too tired to think about it now though. His initial arousal from the massage has faded into relaxed sleepiness. He almost dozes off where he sits, head jerking up in surprise before it touches his chest.

“Tired?”

“Mmm, I should go home to bed,” Anders agrees, smothering a yawn.

“You’re going to bed, but I’m not letting you drive like this. C’mon.” Anders watches in confusion as Mitchell strides over to the burly barman and exchanges a few short sentences. He turns back to Anders and beckons him over, so the blond reluctantly stands. As he reaches Mitchell, the other man wraps an arm around his waist and tugs him up the stairs. Anders is so tired that he’s standing dumbly in front of Mitchell’s bed before he realizes what the brunet had meant.

“I know it’s not as nice as your place, but it’s pretty comfy. Go to sleep. I’ll do my best not to wake you when I come up at the end of my shift.”

Anders nods, still staring at the bed. After a few moments of this, Mitchell seems to realize he’s blanked out. Gentle hands ease his jacket off his shoulders, reminding Anders it would be best to take off his suit before climbing in. He moves to unbutton his own shirt and Mitchell slides away, only to return with a worn blue tee. The blond pulls it on before shucking off his trousers and shoes, and tiredly climbs in to pull up the covers. His body involuntarily relaxes once he’s horizontal, exhausted eyes finally allowed to close. He hears Mitchell moving around a bit, but quietly.

“I should get back to work,” Mitchell’s voice is soft. “Sleep well.” He smoothes the blankets down and presses a gentle kiss to Anders lips before leaving soundlessly. This final tender gesture makes exhausted tears threaten. It’s been a long time since anyone showed him such care.

Anders usually avoids sleeping in unfamiliar beds since he doesn’t feel safe enough to sleep more than fitfully. But that night, surrounded by Mitchell’s now familiar scent, he buries himself in the blankets and sleeps deeply. He barely registers the bed dipping under the other man’s weight as he slides in and curls his long body around the blond.

So it’s with some surprise that he wakes a few hours later. There’s soft pre-dawn light just starting to drift through the narrow window, and he blinks dazedly as re registers his surroundings. Right, Mitchell had tucked him into his bed when Anders had been dozing off in the pub. Mitchell who is...shaking? Alarmed, Anders props himself up on his elbow to leans over the brunet. Worry clenches his gut tightly when he sees the look of mute misery on Mitchell’s face and the tremors vibrating through his body. He’s curled in on himself, arms folded to clutch at his stomach. With his eyes closed, Anders can’t tell if he’s asleep or awake, and he’s not sure what to do. If he wakes him, it could make Mitchell aware of his misery. But what if he needs help?

He debates with himself for long moments before speaking softly. “Mitchell? Are...are you alright?” His voice is hesitant and he hopes Mitchell can’t hear the faint quaver. Anders has never been good with watching those he cares about in pain. Usually he tries to lighten things with a joke, but this situation feels too intimate for his usual blunt humour. He’s relieved when the vampire immediately cracks his eyes open and there’s no sign he was asleep. At least he won’t have to wake Mitchell.

“M’sorry, didn’t mean to bother you. I’ll go to the couch, go back to sleep. I know you’re exhausted, this’ll pass.” Mitchell’s voice is hoarse as he speaks, and a stronger shudder shakes him, but he still moves to get out of the bed. Anders is faster though, throwing an arm around his waist so he can’t move away.

“Don’t worry about waking me, I slept long enough. What do you mean ‘it’ll pass’? What is this?” Now that he has contact with Mitchell’s skin, he can feel the twitches chasing through his muscles.

Mitchell sighs and almost collapses back into the bed, rolling onto his back so he can better see Anders. The blond shuffles himself on his side so his arm is lying across Mitchell’s collarbone, fingers tangling in the mussed curls. “Remember how I mentioned withdrawal symptoms?” Anders nods. “This is one of them. Fortunately I’ve passed most of the rest.”

“So the shakes are a side-effect of giving up blood?”

The vampire nods tiredly. “And cramping with them. It’s like hunger pains, except that I’ve eaten. Maybe it’s some kind of weird vampiric dehydration. They should be done in a few hours.”

“How often does this happen? And for how long?”

“Every couple of weeks for now, although it should spread out longer if I don’t feed. As for how long, it still happened occasionally to the guy I knew who was clean for twenty years.” Mitchell’s tone is matter of fact, like it doesn’t bother him that this is what he can expect for the rest of his life.

Anders is horrified. The only thing Mitchell gets for trying to stop killing is pain? No wonder most vampires don’t even try. “And...and the other withdrawal symptoms?” He doesn’t want to ask, but at the same time he has to know.

Mitchell closes his eyes. It’s like he has to drag the answers out from somewhere deeper, but seems willing enough to do so. Anders moves his hand from the brunet’s hair to his chest, massaging gently to ease some of the tremors. Finally Mitchell begins to speak. “The vampire curse is strong, it wants to continue.” His voice is hesitant, but strengthens as he continues, “when you first start to go clean, it’s fine for the first few weeks, but then you start to get hungry. Sooner or later this instinctive blood lust kicks in; where you’ll say anything, do anything, kill anyone. Just so you can feed again. When I went to Carl for help, he tied me to a chair for two weeks until I stopped cursing out anyone in hearing range. The other times I managed to lock myself in a basement or somewhere isolated to ride it out.

“After that comes hallucinations, waking dreams. Apparently they’re different for everyone, but I saw weird twisted landscapes and my family inhabiting them to tell me what a disappointment I am. How I’m too much of a monster to ever be their family. And the Men with Sticks and Rope chasing me through endless hallways.” Anders has no clue who the fuck they are, but he has a feeling he doesn’t want to. He can feel the shudder that goes through Mitchell with the name and it has nothing to do with withdrawal. “The hallucinations only last a few days, but after they pass I can’t keep any food down for a few weeks. I’m hungry all the time, but I vomit every time I eat anything. It’s just another way for the curse to force you back onto blood.

“But the worst for me has always been the nightmares. All the faces of all the people I’ve killed...Christ, Anders, there are so many,” Mitchell says rapidly, forcing the words out through a throat choked with tears. “They remind me of the monster I am until it’s so tempting to feed again just to forget. To numb the part of me that cares about them. And then if I give in...as soon as the blood haze passes I hate myself again for being weak. It’s the guilt I feel for their deaths that made me give up blood in the first place.

“Luckily at this point, all I have to deal with is this and the occasional nightmare.” Mitchell turns his head to give Anders a small but honest smile. “I’ve had fewer nightmares since meeting you though. All my dreams seem to have a golden glow.”

Anders is staggered by everything he’s just been told. “Mitchell, if you go through so much every time you give up blood, how the hell do you have the courage to keep trying?”

Mitchell looks shocked at the question. His mouth gapes open as he struggles to find a way to respond. “Anders, I’ve murdered...I’m afraid to count how many people. I should have staked myself so long ago, but I’m too much of a coward. Instead, I keep trying to give up blood, and making some excuse every time I fail. How can you say I have courage?”

“Because you keep trying, even though you know what pain you’ll go through,” Anders replies, sure in his answer. “I think killing yourself would be the easy way out in this case. Going through withdrawal...it seems like penance.”

The vampire looks thoughtful. “I’ve never considered it like that before. I’m not sure my victims would agree with you though.” He seems like he might continue, but instead cries out as his body spasms violently, every muscle standing out as his back arches hard off the bed. Anders verges on panic at the rapid seizure, especially when he sees involuntary tears well up from closed lids. He’d almost gotten used to the constant small tremors but this is something else. He frantically tries to dredge up every memory for emergency care in this sort of situation. The blond’s hands flutter frantically over the long frame, so he feels it when the muscles loosen. Mitchell is panting when the spasm relaxes its hold, curling tightly in on himself and turning away from Anders again. The blond isn’t sure what to do, running a shaking hand up the length of Mitchell’s arm in an attempt to soothe.

“Is there anything I can do to help? Can we make the shakes go away faster?”

Mitchell huffs a tired laugh, uncurling a little to twine his fingers with the hand on his arm. “Not unless you’d like to donate some blood.”

Anders pauses, considering. He’s a little afraid of the idea, especially since the brunet had just emphasized how many people he’s killed, but he doesn’t think Mitchell would ever hurt him. Somehow, he’s found trust in the vampire. Truly, he just wants to help. If giving him some blood will do that... “As long as it’s just a little, alright.”

He’s never seen anyone move so quickly. Suddenly Mitchell is straddling him and gripping his upper arms tightly. He tenses and lets out a tiny whimper as old memories ‘oh god no please don’t hurt me, nononono, not again’ surge through him. As soon as he hears that distress, Mitchell releases Anders like he’s been burned and is across the room in the next breath, collapsing against the dresser when his shaking legs won’t hold him. Anders’ heart quickly calms from the jackrabbit pace, realizing it was only Mitchell and he’s not even bruised.

“Sorry, Anders, I’m so sorry. I swear I’d never hurt you,” Mitchell babbles repeatedly, shaking worse than ever. He flinches away as Anders slides out of bed, only needing a few steps to reach his side in the small room.

“It’s ok, Mitchell, I know you wouldn’t,” Anders says, holding out a hand to help him up. “You startled me, and other people haven’t been as kind as you.” The brunet hesitantly accepts the offered hand and looks surprised, then pleased as Anders easily hauls him to his feet. His face clouds over at the hint of past abuses.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he whispers as the blond supports him back to the bed. Anders is glad he’s stronger than he looks, the shakes mean that Mitchell is a dead weight against his side, barely able to assist. They both lean up against the headboard before the Irishman continues. “Please, don’t offer me your blood again. It was meant as a joke, but I should have even said that. I...I can’t accept.”

“Not even a little?” Anders pushes because he doesn’t want to see Mitchell suffer like this.

“I don’t think I can stop at just a little,” Mitchell looks away, ashamed. “We’re supposed to be able to feed without killing, but Herrick...he liked the show, liked me as a killer. I don’t trust my self-control.”

Anders has a different opinion on how much control Mitchell has, considering the restraint he’s already shown around him; but this time he knows better than to keep pushing. Mitchell is clearly terrified of hurting him. “Alright, I shouldn’t have asked. But lie down on your front, I’ll return the massage you gave me. It might help ease your shakes.”

The brunet nods, clearly relieved to no longer be talking about blood or withdrawal. Anders settles in comfortably, seating himself on Mitchell’s backside. He starts by gently rubbing his palms up Mitchell’s spine and down his sides in gentle circles. From Mitchell’s pleased hum, even so little is helping though he can still feel tremors shaking the body under him.

Anders loses himself in the massage, neither of them inclined to speak after the emotional discussion prior. He’s moved on to firmly massaging out the knots in the brunet’s lower back and moving upwards when he remembers. “All of my dreams seem to have a golden glow.” He’d not processed it sooner, too caught up in everything else he was told, but that sounds a lot like Bragi...

“Mitchell?”

“Mmm?”

“I’ve been wanting to ask you this for awhile, because I’m curious.” He feels the muscles under his fingers tense again. “No, it’s nothing bad! It’s just, I’ve been wondering if my powers as Bragi would work on vampires. The golden glow you mentioned in your dreams sounds like him. Can I try my powers on you? I might be able to help you go to sleep.”

“Of course you can try.”

“Really?” Anders can’t help the shock in his voice. He’d thought he’d have to do more persuading.

Mitchell cracks open a hazel eye to look up at him, an open expression on his tired face. “I’m a lot more dangerous than you, but you still trust me not to hurt you, even though you’ve clearly been hurt before. Why wouldn’t I trust you when you’re only trying to help?”

Anders is once again left speechless at the easy acceptance. As out of character as it is, he can’t help but lean forwards to drape himself over Mitchell in a sort of hug, so he feels the brunet’s voice rumble through him as he speaks again. “Besides, the last time I trusted you turned out pretty well for both of us.” Despite the serious nature of everything they’ve talked about, Anders can’t help the hot rush of arousal at the reminder. Just like he can’t forget the easy trust Mitchell has just given him, even as the tease allowed him to take a step back from an emotional precipice. They’ve only know each other for a few weeks but already the brunet can read him better than anyone he knows. This level of acceptance is a gift he thought he’d never be given. 

As a result, his voice is rough when he speaks. “I’m just going to ask you to do a few things then, to test how much influence Bragi has over you.”

Mitchell doesn’t bother voicing an answer, just hums and nods his agreement.

“Right then,” Anders draws out the god in his mind and begins to speak in Bragi’s gentle tones. “ ** _Mitchell, I want you to get up and get us some water. It’s been a long night and you’re very thirsty._** ”

The brunet blinks slowly a few times, but makes no move to get out from where Anders is sprawled on his back. “I can certainly do that, but I don’t feel compelled to.” Anders deflates a little, allowing his head to thunk down on Mitchell’s back.

“Damn, I was hoping Bragi would work. I’d like to be able to help you.”

“It’s alright, love. I said I didn’t feel a compulsion, but it’s not that I didn’t feel anything.” The vessel lifts his head at that, curious. Usually Bragi is all or nothing. Either people do ask he asks or they think he’s mumbling. “I felt a – a warm tingle? as you spoke and it was very relaxing. This is going to sound strange, but will you and Bragi tell me a story? I think that would relax me enough to fall asleep. You can experiment more with using your powers on me later.”

Anders grins at the request. His vampire lover is asking him to tell a story at bedtime. He can feel Bragi unfurl in his mind with a warm glow, pleased to be included in the request. “We can certainly do that,” Anders/Bragi respond. The blond shifts off Mitchell’s back, moving to lay along his side so he can speak quietly into his ear. Anders can’t help but start out with “ ** _Once upon a time..._** ”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the longer delay for this chapter, it didn't come as smoothly as some have. Thanks to TheGreenSorceress and datsunblue for all their help. The runic script is sourced from http://norse-mythology.org/runes/the-meanings-of-the-runes/
> 
> This chapter has some blood and feeding in it.

Mitchell wakes late morning and squints at the sun filling his tiny room, twisting to bury his face in short blond curls. The last thing he remembers is the gentle, compelling voice of Anders lulling him to sleep. A huge wave of gratitude surges through him, that the other man took the time to help him through his withdrawal despite the exhaustion Anders had been suffering. He’s known the blond long enough now to realize that helping others is usually not his first impulse, and that makes his caring and concern all the more meaningful. The vampire knows he’d scared the blond last night but he’d stayed anyways. Not many people would.

Mitchell is glad neither of them need to be anywhere for awhile. He’s happy to lie in bed and relax next to Anders’ sleep warm body, gently combing his fingers through short golden waves. Because of their close contact, he can feel it as the other slowly drifts into consciousness.

“Mmm, Mitchell?” comes the sleepy mumble.

“Yes?”

“You feelin’ better?”

Mitchell beams as he responds, his wide grin actually audible. “This is the best I’ve _ever_ felt after withdrawal. Thank you.”

“Y’re welcome.” The vampire brushes a feather light kiss across the blond’s lips. “Y’ did that las’ night too. It felt nice.” Anders’ tired slurring is kind of cute, but Mitchell feels his heart clench at the thought that he’s received so few affectionate gestures that he feels the need to comment on something so simple. Still, he knows better than to draw attention to that.

“Sorry, I tend to be pretty tactile.”

“No, ‘s nice.” He suits words to action, twisting his head further into the hand in his hair. Mitchell adds his nails to the gentle caress and can’t hold back a snicker when Anders practically purrs.

“What?” Anders sounds like he wants to be indignant, but is too relaxed and sleepy to summon the proper tone.

“Oh, nothing. Just figured out why you like sitting and staring at your fish so much.”

There’s a pause before the blond cautiously asks, “why?”

Mitchell suppresses another snicker. “You’re just like a cat, purring as I scratch your head.” Anders pushes himself far enough out of the Irishman’s gentle hold that he can glare at him. “Like a tawny mountain lion.” Mitchell continues while Anders still looks unimpressed. He relents a little when Mitchell smiles openly at him, eyes crinkling in genuine amusement with no trace of mockery. Anders’ face softens from his glare into consideration, and he chuckles a little when he has to concede the point.

“A mountain lion, aye?” he mutters as he allows himself to be drawn back in. “Are there many of those in the British Isles?”

“Not so you’d notice. But whenever I lived in a city with a zoo, I would go visit every so often, and the cats were my favourite to watch.” Mitchell’s smile turns wistful, remembering long days at the zoo, especially once he’d begun to question Herrick and the killing. “The zoo was one of the few places I could go without Herrick sending one of the others to follow me. I think he approved of my interest in such impressive predators.”

“That’s…a little creepy actually. About Herrick. He really was _obsessed_ with you, wasn’t he?”

Mitchell huffs a laugh even though it’s really not funny. “Very.” He shudders. “I’m just lucky he never followed through on any of his innuendo. He seemed to prefer a more – paternalistic approach, no matter how twisted.”

It’s Anders’ turn to shudder. “Here I’d thought my stalkers were bad.”

He says it softly, not intending it to be heard, but he hasn’t accounted for Mitchell’s vampiric hearing. “Stalkers…?” he leaves it open for Anders to answer if he chooses.

The blond shakes his head, beard rasping across Mitchell’s chest. “Not today. For today, I just want to be _here_ , not caught in the past.”

“Okay,” the brunet agrees easily, drawing Anders in for a kiss. “But if someone’s bothering you, just let me know what I can do to help?” He wants to scare away anyone who would even think of hurting his lover, but he knows Anders wouldn’t thank him for it. The other man has managed this long on his own, he doesn’t need Mitchell to step in and take control. From what he’s seen, that’s the part Mike always gets wrong.

He knows he’s said the right thing when Anders kisses him deeply. “If you still like the zoo, we should go sometime.”

“Really?” Mitchell can’t help bouncing a little in excitement. No one’s actually gone _with_ him to the zoo before.

“Sure. I usually go to the aquarium, but Auckland’s got a pretty decent zoo. I don’t think there’s any mountain lions though.” Anders laughs as the brunet continues to bounce. “Stop wiggling around! You’re going to throw me off the bed!”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, wrapping the blond tighter in his arms. As small as the bed is, it’s a distinct possibility. Shifting to a more comfortable position, he buries his head in the junction of Anders’ shoulder and relaxes, relishing the ability to do so without the urge to feed. Usually after a night of withdrawal his fangs would be itching with the need to bite, but with the god he just feels calm. His muscles don’t feel overstretched like they’re going to snap off his bones the way they usually would. For the first time he’s not having thoughts of how much easier it would all be if he gave up on going clean.

“Thanks, Anders.”

“For what?”

“For staying last night and doing your best to help. I’m sorry I scared you like I did when you offered me your blood. It means so much to me that you’d offer even after I told you I have problems with control. And thanks to Bragi too. Your story really helped me sleep.”

Anders is silent for a long time, but his fingers move to comb through brunet curls, so Mitchell doesn’t think it’s a negative silence. “You’re welcome. It’s been awhile since anyone’s let me so close when they’re vulnerable. It felt good to be able to help. Just don’t grab me like that again?” Mitchell nods in agreement. “Bragi was happy to help too. He likes you, and most people don’t acknowledge that he’s separate from me.” The vampire can hear the old bitterness tingeing that comment, but remembers the request not to bring history up today.

“If…when I go through withdrawal again, would you be willing to help?”

“Any time.”

They both lapse into a comfortable silence, enjoying the quiet and exchanging lazy kisses. It’s cozy, curled together in the small bed, more peace than Mitchell’s found in a long time. He thinks the same might be true for Anders.

“Anders?”

“Mmm?”

“What’s the aquarium like?” He knows he’s hit on a good topic when the blond’s blue eyes light up and he launches into an animated description of the space and the creatures to be found there. This is Anders in his element, weaving stories to a spellbound audience where the power of his words has nothing to do with the power of his god. Mitchell finds himself so caught up that he actually snarls in confusion when his alarm goes off, in turn startling Anders and interrupting the flow of words.

“Mitchell, what?” The vampire buries his face in Anders’ shoulder in embarrassment.

“Sorry, sorry. I was so caught up in your words that I wasn’t expecting the loud noise. Snarling was a reflex.”

The blond laughs at his embarrassment. “You’re more than a little feline yourself, moving so quietly and growling at things.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sadly, that alarm means it’s time to get up so I can eat before work.”

Anders grumbles, but gets out of bed readily enough. The look on his face when he discovers Mitchell had taken the time to hang his suit properly makes the effort worth it. The blond looks just as put together today as he had last night. He turns down the offer of food though, claiming he’s got food at home that’ll go off if he doesn’t eat it soon. They exchange a few lingering kisses before separating reluctantly.

__________

The exhaustion from withdrawal and an interrupted sleep hit Mitchell hard that night and he’s out cold as soon as he hits his mattress, this time staying awake just long enough to tug the covers over himself. He wakes late into the following afternoon to an insistent ringing.

Mitchell manages to fumble his cell open, “h’lo?” he mumbles, accent thick from sleep.

“Did I wake you? But it’s after 4!” Anders sounds surprised.

“’m always tired after withdrawal.”

“Ah. Would you be up to visiting in an hour or so? Gaia has invited us to meet with her and some of the other Māori to talk about enhancing Bragi’s powers.”

Mitchell’s sleep fuzzy mind takes a little longer to think that through, but he agrees once he’s worked it out. “Sure. Where should I meet you?”

“I’ll be finished work at five, so I can come pick you up after that?”

“Sounds good.” Once Anders has hung up, the vampire’s tired eyes try to slide back shut, but he forces himself upright. He has to scrub a hand over his face before his bleary eyes will focus enough to operate the coffee maker he’d bought for the tiny kitchenette. Once that’s set to brew, the brunet concludes that a quick shower would help him feel more like a vampire than a zombie. He manages to time it so he’s out just as the coffee is ready and practically inhales the first cup, still dripping everywhere despite a cursory towelling. With some caffeine in his system, he feels more prepared for a meeting with another pantheon of gods. Hopefully none of them will have a ‘kill first, ask questions later’ policy regarding vampires.

He’s neatly dressed and fully caffeinated by the time Anders texts that he’s arrived. In fact, he’s starting to jitter from the amount of stimulant he’s just ingested and it’s not helping his nerves. When he hops into the blond’s SUV, the other man misinterprets the tiny vibrations chasing through him.

“Christ Mitchell, is this a bad time? You’re not having withdrawal symptoms again, are you?”

“No, just had too much coffee trying to wake up. I should have eaten something,” Mitchell confesses.

Anders throws his head back and laughs. “Lucky for you, Ty came by work today stalking Dawn and left me some cupcakes. They’re in there,” he waves his hand at a Tupperware in the back seat.

Gorging himself on sugar probably isn’t any better an idea, but he’s getting hungry so he shrugs inwardly. Mitchell only has to take one bite before shoving the whole thing in his mouth seems like a fantastic idea. He can see Anders grimacing in disgust from the corner of his eye, but concentrates on swallowing the delicious mouthful before saying anything.

“I think that’s the best cupcake I’ve ever had. Is Ty the god of baked goods or something?”

Anders chokes on a laugh. “I don’t think there _is_ a pantheon with a god of baked goods, although there should be. No, Ty is Hod, god of all things cold and dark. Or, should I say he _was_ Hod. He recently managed to evict his tenant so he could stop doing his Mr. Freezy routine. Hence the baked goods. He wanted to get rid of Hod so he could have a normal life with Dawn, but something about him not being a god anymore means she’s forgotten him. Ty’s trying to win her back, but he’s acting kind of like a stalker.”

Mitchell is halfway through a second cupcake when Anders gets to the part where Dawn has forgotten Ty. He lets the blond finish before he speaks up. “So if she’s forgotten him, why haven’t I?”

“It’s got to be something to do with you not being a mortal.” Anders brightens, “maybe there’s a way…” Mitchell shakes his head sadly before he can finish the thought.

“There’s nothing supernatural I can think of that wouldn’t be worse for them,” he says heavily. “If Ty wants to be with her, he’ll probably just have to do it the usual way. She fell for him once, didn’t she?”

“That’s what I tried to tell him, but he’s too desperate to be patient. At the rate he’s going, he’s going to get a restraining order instead of a date. Maybe I can use Bragi to give them some common ground...”

“If Ty’s mortal now, couldn’t you use Bragi to nudge him into backing off a little?” Mitchell suggests. Anders is clearly contemplating the idea when they arrive at their destination.

* * *

Anders has never considered using Bragi on _Ty_ before. The suggestion does have merit, Ty does so hate it when he uses his powers on Dawn. He shelves the suggestion to think about later, there’s no time for consideration now they’d arrived at the address Gaia had given him.

On first glance, the single storey red-brick house looks far too unassuming to be the home of gods with their full powers. Then again, it’s not like Mike’s bar looks like a place the Norse pantheon would be drawn to either. This is definitely the correct address. It’s just a relief they aren’t here for a formal meeting like the hui. Axl had told him later about the disastrous waiata.

Now they’re arrived, Mitchell looks a little apprehensive about meeting the Māori. At least he’s not jittering so badly anymore. Anders was more than a little surprised that vampires _could_ get the shakes from coffee. Knowing Mitchell has certainly been a learning experience.

“C’mon Mitchell. Gaia promised none of the others would go after you for being a dark creature.”

“Well, that’s a little reassuring at least,” the vampire draws in a deep breath and hops out of the car. Anders leads the way to the door, Mitchell trailing behind, but their hands meet for a brief moment before the Norse vessel knocks. It’s an unusual novelty that Mitchell’s touch can provide such comfort for him, he’s hesitant about meeting a fully-powered pantheon on their own turf. There’s no time for him to get more apprehensive as Gaia promptly opens the door with a welcoming smile for them both.

“Welcome, Anders, Mitchell,” she nods at each in turn. “I’m glad you could make it today. Please, come in and I‘ll introduce some of the others.”

“Thank you,” Anders steps in first and follows the petite goddess to a living room decorated with Māori art and artefacts. He can feel Mitchell shuffling close behind. Already seated are two Maori men, although both stand in greeting.

“Anders, vessel of Bragi, meet George who is Punga,” she gestures at the older, lean man with the first streaks of grey in his wavy hair, “and Leon, who is Rongo.” Leon is younger than George, with tight curls and a rounder, friendly face. “And George, Leon, this is Mitchell.”

“Pleased to meet you both,” the vampire greets them both from his position slightly behind Anders.

The blond speaks next. “Is Jerome not here?”

George answers, looking slightly sheepish. “Even as Māui, Jerome can be…impulsive. We thought it best he not be here for this.”

“And he’s still convinced he’s meant to be with my baby sis,” Leon adds cheerfully. “Māui always did think that ‘no’ just meant he wasn’t trying the right thing.”

“Please, pull up a chair,” George gestures to the couch. “Have a drink before we get down to the serious stuff.” The Norse vessel accepts both the invitation to sit and the beer he’s passed, but remains on edge for some time. He’s trusting in these people a lot to be able to help him, and that doesn’t come naturally. He can feel the tension radiating from Mitchell’s poker straight form next to him as well, which certainly doesn’t help. George and Leon are so laid back however that it’s difficult to keep his guard up. His apprehension dissipates gradually with the easy conversation, and Mitchell relaxes as he does.

Once they’re all finished their drinks and passed around some snacks, Gaia stands and calls attention back to the matter at hand. “It would be best if we moved to the yard for the ritual.” And just like that all of Anders’ tension is back in full force. He tries to take comfort from Mitchell’s hand resting in the small of his back, but he knows the vampire is feeling much the same.

“What is this ritual, exactly?” he asks as their hosts lead the way outside. Anders is proud of how casual his question sounds. “How is Mitchell going to make Bragi stronger? It’s not like vampires have a place in Norse mythology.” His boyfriend hums in agreement with the question.

It’s George who answers, surprising Anders. He thought Gaia would be taking the lead. “It’s true that vampires are not part of your mythology, but they are supernatural as well and as such have their own power. The ritual we are suggesting is a type of binding, allowing Bragi to ‘borrow’ from Mitchell. It would not work if the two of you were not already connected. This is simply intended to solidify that bond.”

It all sounds reasonable, but, “if Bragi is drawing from him, won’t that make Mitchell weaker? I don’t want this if it’s going to hurt him.”

“Don’t worry about me, Anders. Being weaker might be a good thing, make it harder for me to hurt anyone,” Mitchell cuts in.

“It will not damage the vampire to be bonded to you,” Leon says, now speaking with the voice of his god. “It goes both ways, you will _both_ be made stronger. This had been a concern of ours at the outset, we did not wish to strengthen a vampire so he might more easily prey on others…”

“…I swear, I wouldn’t…” Mitchell starts to object, but Rongo continues speaking over him.

“Papatūānuku’s reading of Mitchell reduced this worry however. We have also considered the bond this ritual would form and concluded that it is likely to _reduce_ his need to feed.” As Rongo finishes his explanation, Anders notices a difference between the gods and their vessels. While George and Leon were happy to speak to Mitchell, Punga and Rongo direct their attention to Anders. Papatūānuku is the only one to address the vampire directly. It seems the gods are still a bit leery of the whole ‘dark creature’ thing.

Anders turns to Mitchell and reads a bit of annoyance at being talked about like he’s not there, but mostly relief and cautious hope that his addiction might be lessened. “So, you alright to try this ritual?”

“Of course,” the brunet agrees immediately. Mitchell turns to Gaia to ask, “so what exactly do we have to do?”

“The connection is best forged through actions closely linked to your supernatural natures. For Bragi, this means painting runes speaking of your bond in his blood over your heart. For you, it means feeding from Anders.”

As soon as the word ‘feeding’ leaves her mouth, Anders knows they’re going to have a problem. Mitchell’s face pales to a dead white and he looks like he’s about to bolt. Just in case, the blond latches a hand onto his wrist to stall him, although he knows it’s not enough if Mitchell’s determined to leave. He just hopes he won’t wind up searching half of Auckland for his vampire.

“I can’t feed from Anders,” Mitchell’s refusal is quiet but firm.

“You only need take a mouthful,” Gaia tries to reassure him.

“No, no, I _can’t_. I don’t want to hurt him.”

“Mitch…” Anders begins, but cuts off when Mitchell whirls on him with tears beginning to well.

“I don’t trust my control! I can’t hurt you!” The blond feels his heart drop when Mitchell tears out of his grip, but the brunet doesn’t move, just buries his fingers in his curls and tugs savagely in agitation. Anders steps closer, wanting to sooth him but not really knowing how. He settles for awkwardly rubbing a hand up and down Mitchell’s back and is gratified when a little of the tension seeps out of his form.

“Isn’t there any other way?” the vampire finally asks Gaia plaintively. The other gods are standing back now, looking absolutely floored that a vampire would refuse blood that’s freely offered.

Gaia shakes her head in answer. “No, there is no other way.”

“Mitchell, we _need_ this bond. I need to be able to talk down the Hunters or someone’s going to wind up dead. I trust you,” he almost whispers the last words, it still feels strange to be able to place so much trust in someone. He can feel a warm glow of approval from Bragi and knows the god agrees with him about placing his faith in the Irishman.

“Thank you, Anders,” Mitchell’s eyes are warm with gratitude, “but _I_ don’t trust me.” He sighs heavily, clearly thinking, and scrubs his hands over his face. “Can you use one of the trees like you did those vines in the alley? To bind me in case I can’t stop? I don’t know what kind of effect god blood will have on me.”

“Certainly,” Papatūānuku agrees. “That is a wise precaution, I should have thought of it myself.”

Mitchell’s shoulders slump in relief and surrender. “Alright then. Let’s get this ritual done.” He sets himself, waiting, but after a few moments laughs sheepishly. “So what do we do now?”

They all join in the laughter, dispelling the dark mood which had fallen. “We can begin with Bragi’s part. Which means, _you_ take off your shirt.” Mitchell complies, patting down his unruly curls while Gaia eyes him with a grin.

Anders laughingly grabs the brunet around the waist, tugging him close. “Hey, get your own vampire! This one’s mine,” he retorts with a mock growl. Mitchell returns the half-embrace, dropping a loud kiss against Anders’ temple.

Gaia hands the blond a small ritual knife, returning his smile. “He’ll definitely be all yours after this. But that doesn’t mean I can’t admire the view.”

Mitchell laughs at the teasing but ducks his head a little at all the attention directed his way. Anders catches him in a short kiss before turning his attention to the knife. Why did god pacts always involve knives? He’s about to cut his hand and get on with the ritual when he realizes something very important.

“How exactly should I know which runes to use? That’s not something that my abilities usually run to.”

“Do you sometimes invoke Bragi more directly? Calling on _him_ rather than just pulling on his powers?” Gaia asks him.

Anders considers this for some time. There are moments when he feels a more direct connection, especially recently. He closes his eyes and reaches out to that golden presence. Bragi unfurls and responds to his request, filling him more fully with his presence than the blond has ever felt before. When he opens his eyes again, the world is overlaid with the somewhat familiar faint golden haze. Turning his attention to Mitchell, he can see runes glowing gold over his heart. Bragi whispers their meaning into his mind: Eihwaz for strength and stability, Mannaz for augmentation and support, Ingwaz for the actualization of potential, and finally Othalan for inheritance and nobility.

He goes to slice his palm and draw the runes, but is halted by Mitchell’s hand around his wrist. His blue eyes meet the brunet’s hazel in question.

“I don’t know what the scent of your blood will do to me.” The vampire nods to Gaia. “Let her restrain me first.” He strides over to one of the nearby trees and waits. The goddess follows, and soon two thin but strong branches have secured his wrists in the small of his back.

“Go ahead,” he nods, and somehow the blond can tell he’s giving permission to both Anders _and_ Bragi. The god still filling his mind, Anders steps forward and uses the knife. Mitchell’s eyes blink to black for a moment, but beyond that the vampire doesn’t react to the strong coppery scent now filling the air. Passing the ceremonial knife off to Gaia, the blond dips his finger into the blood welling up and draws       over the glowing tracery provided by Bragi. When the last rune is completed, they flare brightly golden and then subside into almost scarified markings over the Irishman’s heart. Anders blinks in surprise, but the lingering mark _feels_ right. He’s once again startled when he goes to bandage his palm and finds the wound already sealed.

Shrugging off the oddity, he looks up to meet Mitchell’s eyes. “So, that wasn’t so bad.” The vampire chuckles in response.

“I think that was the easy part.”

Anders shrugs. “Yeah, probably.” He unbuttons the top half of his dress shirt, removing his jacket and tie before leaning forward to offer his bared neck. The vampire kisses the exposed skin but the blond doesn’t feel the expected fangs piercing it. Instead, Mitchell pulls back and shakes his head.

“Not your neck. It’s too easy to bite deeper than I mean to.”

Anders raises an eyebrow in challenge. “How are we supposed to do this then?”

“Your wrist. Even if I accidentally go too deep, it’s easy to bandage.”

The blond shrugs again and rolls up his cuff, offering up his wrist instead. Mitchell teases him a little, dropping butterfly kisses up his arm and scraping his stubble over the sensitive skin. Once the brunet blinks his eyes to black, Anders shivers from the feeling of sharp fangs grazing over his pulse point for a moment before the same are sinking in. There’s a brief instant of pain and then it’s lost in the odd sensation of Mitchell drawing a mouthful of blood. He’s expecting, from all the brunet’s concerns about his lack of control, to need to pull away and retreat out of reach. Because of this expectation, he stumbles back in confusion when Mitchell instead releases his wrist with a hiss and spits out the blood he hasn’t yet swallowed. The brunet collapses to his knees, spitting and coughing, his arms wrenched up behind him at an odd angle from the bonds he’d insisted on.

Anders lurches forwards and falls to his knees beside the brunet. Worry wars in his chest with the warmth that blossomed with the completion of the bond. “For fuck’s sake, let him go!” he shouts at Gaia, standing wide-eyed nearby. “He’s clearly in no shape to attack anyone.” Seconds later the branches release the vampire to fall into Anders’ lap. The blond checks over the other man, but can’t see any visible reason for his reaction.

Bragi is still strongly present in Anders’ mind. He can feel the god’s concern, but not much surprise. He wishes he had some means to question the god, but he’s distracted as Mitchell rolls over with a groan.

“’m not doing that again,” he says in a pain choked voice.

“Mitchell, what _happened?_ ”

“Vampires don’t eat werewolves because we _can’t_ ,” he begins.

“What the fuck does that have to do with anything?” Anders demands. He’s too worried to want to listen to some nonsense about werewolves.

“Werewolf blood is toxic to vampires,” Mitchell opens pain-glazed hazel eyes to meet Anders’. “It seems that god blood is as well. I have a feeling the only reason I’m still alive is because Bragi likes me.” He turns his attention to the Māori gods who have moved closer. “You have nothing to fear from me or any other vampire. Feeding from you would destroy any who tried, and vampires are _very_ interested in staying alive.” He gives them a self-deprecating grin.

That’s all well and good, but right now Anders could care less about any of that. “Will you be alright?”

Mitchell gives him another smile and nods. “I’ll be fine, I think.”

“You _think?_ ”

“Well I haven’t exactly drunk god blood before, have I? Like I said though, I can feel that Bragi likes me. I’ll probably be weak for a few days and then go back to normal.”

The blond slumps a little, relieved the ritual he’d convinced Mitchell to join in wouldn’t kill his lover. Reminded of who had suggested the ritual, he glares up at the Māori. “Did you know that my blood could kill him?”

Gaia shakes her head in denial. “We had no idea.”

“Our people have had very little interaction with vampires,” Rongo continues. “The ritual was based off an old bond between a taniwha and a tohunga. Had we known it would have a potentially deadly result, we would not have suggested this.”

Anders stares them down, blue eyes hard. “Are you sure? Because you don’t seem to have a good opinion of Mitchell.”

“Despite our opinion of vampires in general, Mitchell has earned our respect through his actions and restraint. And regardless of our feelings about him, it is in our best interest to aid you with the Hunters. This bond only works if both of the bonded are alive,” Punga says, apology in his tone.

Their explanations seem reasonable enough, but Anders is still a little suspicious of their motives. His expression only softens when Mitchell reaches up to tangle their fingers.

“I’ll be fine. I just need some rest.”

With Anders’ help, the Irishman makes it to his feet. “Thank you for your help with the ritual. I’ll let you know how it goes with the Hunters, but for now I should get him home.” All three Māori nod in agreement, and George is kind enough to walk them to the car and support Mitchell while Anders opens the door.

The brunet falls into a doze as Anders drives, jerking awake with a start when the engine shuts off. He blinks sleepily as he registers where they are. “Anders? Thought you were taking me home.”

“You’re at _a_ home,” he retorts with a grin. “My bed is more comfortable anyways.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that this update took so long! I got really stuck on this chapter. Thank you to everyone who has read, commented, or left kudos on this fic, you're all wonderful. I hope you're still sticking with me as this fic is coming to a close. I'm thinking that there will only be 2 or 3 more chapters after this, although I do have a definite sequel planned.
> 
> Thanks to TheGreenSorceress for their help, and datsunblue for patiently explaining Kiwi things to me ^^

Mitchell collapses on the couch with a groan, as rung out as if he’s gone through a particularly nasty withdrawal rather than had his first mouthful of blood in _months_. Christ, he hopes it wasn’t enough to start withdrawal again. He doesn’t even want to imagine how nasty god blood could make it. With the thought, he feels a strangely reassuring warmth in the back of his mind.

“Anders? What – what does Bragi _feel_ like for you?” The blond looks up quizzically from where he’s been bashing around in the kitchen.

“What do you mean?”

“Ever since you marked me with those runes, I’ve been getting strange feelings…”

“And you think it might be Bragi,” Anders finishes his thought. He moves to join Mitchell on the couch, carrying with him two beers and a plate of snacks. “That would make sense. I definitely felt a connection being completed when you bit me.” Mitchell ducks his head, ashamed that he’d done that so soon after he’d sworn he never would, even if it had been necessary. Anders continues, oblivious, “and you said that Bragi liked you, how could you tell if you couldn’t feel him?”

“True. I-I’m sorry to have bitten you. I promised not to hurt you; then did anyways.” His bowed head has his hair hanging in his eyes, so he misses Anders’ incredulous look. The blond shifts to face him more fully, face softening when he sees the vampire hunching in on himself.

“Mitch, I _asked_ you to. As for hurting me, I’ve had paper cuts more painful. Look, it healed when the bond completed.” Mitchell takes the offered wrist and looks at the undamaged skin in disbelief. Anders shivers at the rasp of stubble when the brunet drops another kiss against his pulse point where a small  has scarred over the bite. “I’m pretty sure you got the worst of the ritual.”

Mitchell shrugs nonchalantly. He doesn’t really mind as long as Anders is unhurt. They sit in comfortable silence for long moments, Mitchell enjoying the tiny shivers he can pull from the other by lightly tracing patterns on the wrist he still holds.

Eventually the Kiwi breaks the silence, setting down his beer to ask, “so, can I see them?”

Slightly confused, Mitchell asks, “see what?”

“The runes left from the ritual.”

More than a little curious himself, the brunet agreeably shrugs off his shirt. His face makes a good attempt to flush at the awed look on Anders’ face as the other man traces over the marks left behind. Looking at him closer, the faint golden haze and warmth in his chest indicate that it’s not just the vessel enjoying it. Craning his head down to see better, Mitchell sighs.

“This is one of those times I wish I could be seen on film or in a mirror.”

“What about a digital camera? They don’t use film. Isn’t it something about the silver that means it’s impossible?” It’s Mitchell’s turn to shudder as the other man brushes over a nipple as he traces the runes.

Mitchell shakes his head at the suggestion. “I tried that once. Apparently it’s just something about vampires that our image can’t be captured. Otherwise I would reflect in some mirrors, since they aren’t all backed with silver anymore.”

The blond pulls back from his exploration as another question occurs. “So how the hell did you get on a plane?” He sounds so outraged that Mitchell throws his head back and laughs.

“There’s a vampire-friendly forger in London. He made all of my ID using a photo from someone who looks similar enough to pass. A new birth certificate too, since I can hardly tell people I was born in 1893.” He jumps when he feels a hand moving under him, but shifts to make it easier for Anders to grab his wallet.

“The forger chose well, he really does look like you,” Anders comments, peering closely at the photo. “Wait, your first name is _John_? Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

Mitchell shifts uncomfortably, not really wanting to explain but knowing he should, so Anders doesn’t get the wrong impression. “My Ma always called me her sweet little Johnny, and I couldn’t be that for her anymore once I was turned. Herrick and the others…they called me ‘Big Bad John’ and I don’t _want_ to be him anymore. So…” he shrugs helplessly, “…now I go by Mitchell.” He’s afraid to look at Anders, to see his reaction. The roiling in his gut grows as the silence stretches, but he keeps his eyes fixed on his lap. His stomach drops out when the blond shifts as if he’s going to leave, but that strange warmth from Bragi keeps Mitchell seated.

He’s rewarded when Anders moves back on the couch, but he keeps his head down, listening to the rustle of paper. “This is how _I_ see you,” Anders says quietly, pushing a sketchbook into his lap. Mitchell’s unneeded breath catches when he sees the beautiful sketch; his face staring back at him with a broad grin, curls attractively mussed. It’s a far cry from the grimy, haggard visage he’d seen staring back from his tiny shaving mirror the morning before everything changed.

Mitchell tries to thank Anders, to say anything at all, but the words are caught in his throat. The other man speaks instead, voice quiet but intent. “You’re the one person in my life who laughs _with_ me rather than _at_ me. I’ve been happier with you than I’ve ever felt in my life, and I’m pretty sure I’m falling for you. So it doesn’t matter to me who you _were_ because I know how hard you’re trying to get past that. All that matters to me is who you _are_.” Anders grins at the vampire, who by now has tears welling in his eyes. “I was going to give this sketch to you that night with the handcuffs, but then I got sidetracked by fantastic sex. I’m happy to have waited though. I think you needed it more today.”

He nods mutely and pulls Anders into a passionate kiss, hoping to express all the gratitude he can’t put words to yet. Anders is panting by the time he’s released, arousal darkening his blue eyes.

“If that’s the reaction I get, I’m going to have to give you gifts more often.”

Mitchell can’t help but laugh from all the joy buzzing through him, fairly sure that at least some of it is leaking over from Bragi and possibly Anders. The idea makes him even warmer, that he can make the blond’s life better just by being himself. The gift he’s been given also reminds him of his own intentions.

“Apparently our thoughts run on similar lines,” he comments, tugging off his heavy pewter ring. “Because I wanted you to have this.” He tugs Anders’ newly scarred wrist back out, sliding it onto his middle finger. “My grandmother gave me that ring as a confirmation gift.”

Anders’ mouth gapes as he looks down at the ring, then back at Mitchell, searching his face for sincerity. “Mitch...I can’t take this.”

The brunet’s buoyant happiness drops a little at the refusal. “If it’s too much, I understand. I just wanted you to have...”

“...no! That’s not it at all!” the other man cuts him off. “But if it’s from your grandmother it must be one of the last things you have from before... You should hold on to it.” He tries to hand it back, but Mitchell wraps the blond’s fingers over to trap it in his palm. The vampire smiles softly at him.

“That’s exactly why I want you to have it, because you’re important to me too. I like the idea of leaving little pieces of who I was with people who still care about me despite what I’ve become.” He leans in to kiss Anders deeply. “The knotwork also goes well with that new design on your wrist,” he murmurs against Anders’ lips.

The blond nods initially, but his eyes go wide when he processes. “What new design on my wrist?”

Mitchell is equally surprised. “Didn’t you notice the triskele there when you checked it earlier? It’s scarified like the runes. I guess they’re symbols of the bond.”

“So this is called a triskele?” His finger pokes hesitantly at the scarring. It seems Anders is much less enthusiastic when it’s himself being marked.

“Yeah. There’s a lot of possible meanings for that symbol, but one of them is that it represents motion; cycles of rebirth and progress. The sign of the three: you, me, and Bragi.”

“Huh, seems appropriate then.” Anders’ nose scrunches as he looks at the symbol again. “I just hope my brothers don’t notice and start bothering me about where it came from. I don’t want Mike breaking out the torches and pitchforks because you bit me.”

Mitchell rears back a little. “But... I thought it didn’t hurt?”

“It didn’t. Mike doesn’t like there being things about us he can’t control. I’d say a vampire lover would qualify.”

Said vampire nudges closer, tucking his head into the curve of the blond’s shoulder. He’s reading between the lines when he asks, “and which part of that would bother him more?”

Anders laughs as he answers, but it carries a broken edge. “Yeah, probably the part where you’re a man. That’s pretty fucked up.” Mitchell’s not sure how to respond to Anders’ sudden mood shift, what would be welcome; but the blond shakes it off almost as quickly. They’re going to have to talk about it eventually, but the day has seen enough emotional upheavals. Instead, the vampire smiles softly when Anders slides the ring onto his left middle finger.

The blond’s voice is warm when he speaks, “thank you for the ring...” he trails off as if he wants to say more, though he doesn’t add to the simple statement.

It doesn’t matter much to Mitchell. Oddly for a poet, often his actions say more than his words. “Thank you for the picture.”

They drift in comfortable silence once again, Mitchell drained from the ceremony though it seems to have had the opposite effect on Anders. Pressed against him, Mitchell can almost _hear_ the thoughts tumbling through the vessel’s mind. In an attempt to help him focus and because he’s curious, he asks, “so what runes are these anyways?” gesturing to his chest.

Anders pushes himself away a little before he answers. “This one is Eihwaz,” he says, pointing to the first. “It stands for the strength and stability the bond with you will provide my powers.”

It looks more like a weird ‘s’ to Mitchell than anything so powerful, but all the runes look odd. Much more angular than the traditions of his homeland. He can feel the bond created by the runes however, so he believes the explanation.

The blond calls his attention back when he traces the lines of the next. “Mannaz, mutual augmentation and support. Ingwaz for the fulfillment of potential, and finally Othalan. It is a rune of inheritance and nobility.”

Anders continues to trace the lines of the runes, but the awe from earlier has faded into hunger. His voice is low as he purrs into Mitchell’s ear, “want to see what _else_ the bond does?”

Mitchell is very much curious about what else the bond does, and draws the blond into a long filthy kiss. After he fights down the urge to yawn for the second time though, he has to concede. “I’m sorry Anders,” he pulls away to mumble into his shoulder, stifling another. “I want to, but I’m exhausted.”

Anders tenses under him at the yawn, and Mitchell worries he’s going to take it badly as he had the previous time. But instead a gentle hand cups his jaw and turns him to face the Kiwi. Mitchell can see him struggling with himself, likely holding back his impulse to persuade the vampire into bed. And the brunet would probably give in. It’s truly only his lingering tiredness from withdrawal and reaction to god blood that are preventing an enthusiastic ‘yes’.

Rather than sweet-talking, the blond simply asks, “you want to head to sleep then?” He gets another yawn and a sleepy nod in response as Mitchell gathers himself and pushes off the couch. He turns towards the door to head home, but a hand on his wrist stops him.

“Where are you going?”

“Home? To sleep?”

“You don’t have to leave, I’ve got a perfectly good bed.” The corner of Anders’ mouth quirks is a wry grin. “I promise I won’t try to get a leg over while you’re sleeping.”

Mitchell smiles at his self-deprecating humour. “And how about when I’m awake?”

The question startles a bark of laughter from the other man. “Only if you want me to.” His tone is light but his blue eyes are sincere.

It doesn’t take long for the two to be crawling into bed. Anders suggests Mitchell start leaving a few clothes over, there’s only so many of his shirts that will fit the brunet. At some point, the blond starts yawning as well. Either the energy from the ritual has burned off or somehow Mitchell’s exhaustion is leaking through the bond. The vampire drifts off quickly with Anders’ warmth in his arms and Bragi’s glow shielding his dreams.

__________

He surfaces the next morning to Anders’ alarm, drifting in and out of awareness as the blond prepares for work. Mitchell makes a half-hearted effort to get up and leave as well, but Anders pushes him back to the bed.

“Y’re goin’ t’ work, sh’ldn’t stay,” the brunet protests sleepily even as he curls back under the covers.

Anders laughs softly at him. “No, you should stay. Get some rest so when I get home tonight we can _explore_ the bond,” heavy emphasis leaving no doubt as to his intentions. “If you’re up to it of course.” A flash of heat momentarily cuts through his tiredness, and he cracks an eye to grin wickedly back.

“Sounds like a challenge to me.”

The blond returns his grin. “So rest up, you’ll need it.”

Mitchell can’t help but agree. Even now he can feel some of Anders’ hunger and lust filtering through their newly forged connection.

* * *

Anders leaves his apartment and the sleepy Mitchell behind with some difficulty. And not just because he’s struggling to walk comfortably with the hardness tenting his trousers from what he has in mind for later. His bed seems all the more welcoming with the lanky Irishman in it. He just wants to crawl back in and go to sleep. Instead, he’s in for another long day at the office.

Just as he’s about to head out the door, Anders thinks of something. He leaves Mitchell a note on the kitchen island and a spare key.

         _Mitchell,_

_here’s a key to the flat in case you wake up and want to go out for a bit. Should be home around_

_five, hope to find you in my bed. Naked._

_Anders_

_PS. Keep the key, you’re always welcome_

_PPS. Feed my fish_

It’s easier than he thought it might be to extend that invitation. Ty, Olaf, and Dawn already have keys to his place, might as well give one to Mitchell. He walks out the door grinning.

His assistant greets him with a smile when he arrives at j:pr. Their recent increase in business has definitely put her in a better frame of mind, at least when she’s not going mad from trying to get it all done.

“Morning, Dawnsie, have a good night?”

“I did, actually. There was a lovely little French film playing at the Academy Cinema last night.” She eyes his smile warily. “I can see you did as well, but please, don’t tell me about it.”

The corner of Anders’ mouth quirks further and he’s tempted to fabricate some salacious details just to watch her reaction. Dawn is far too much fun to tease. Instead, he tosses her a wink and settles behind his desk. It’s as he’s flipping through the folders to decide what to take care of first that he thinks to ask, “how did you get interested in French cinema anyways? I don’t imagine it’s common in Putaruru.”

Dawn looks startled, then pleased. “It’s been awhile since you bothered to ask me about more than just my sex life,” she retorts teasingly. He laughs, conceding the point ruefully.

“I’m turning over an old leaf. I realized recently that I’ve missed having you as a friend.”

“Anders, I’ve always been your friend, even when you were being a dick. I wouldn’t put up with that shit from just anyone.”

This declaration silences him for a moment, realizing all over again how lucky he is that she’s stuck around. Dawn is one of the strongest people he knows. More than once, her disapproval has prompted him to drop or alter plans that weren’t particularly _moral_. It’s easier than he’d like to ignore those concerns in his enthusiasm or focus on the bottom line. “Thanks Dawn. You keep me honest.”

The blonde gives him a soft smile in response before turning to her work. They pass a few moments of silence before he prompts, “so, French cinema?”

She looks at him in surprise before laughing. “I’m not sure what drew me initially. My school taught French starting in form 4, but at first it was just something I had to do. I started to like it at some point though, the chance to learn a different language. I kept up with it enough to join the French club in uni. We watched a few films and I just fell in love with the way French films are so different than ours.”

The remainder of the morning passes rather pleasantly, both settling into a rhythm of work interspersed with exchanges about clients, and films they’ve enjoyed. Anders is thinking of trying to find copies of a few that Dawn had made sound particularly interesting. They’re so absorbed that the knock at the door around noon comes as a shock.

Two blond heads whip around in unison to be greeted by a sheepish Mitchell hovering in the open door.

“I brought lunch?” the brunet holds out his burdens in offering and explanation.

Anders’ dimples deepen with the wide smile that creases his face as he stands to greet the brunet. “Mitchell! To be honest, I didn’t think you’d be awake yet.”

“I didn’t either, but my stomach woke me an hour ago. I saw the key you’d left when I got up to make something and thought I’d come share.”

Anders draws him into a deep kiss. “Thanks babe.” When he’s released, Mitchell looks startled at both the endearment and the kiss, darting looks of concern between the blonds. Dawn senses his tension and stands to leave.

“I’ll go grab something for myself then, let you have some privacy.”

The other blond chuckles at their hesitancy. “It’s alright Mitchell. I told her about you.”

Mitchell relaxes as soon as he hears that. “Stay, please,” he turns to Dawn. “I made enough for the three of us.”

“In that case, thank you for the invitation Mitchell. It’s lovely to meet you,” she offers her hand with a welcoming smile. “I was wondering about the person who’d made Anders smile again.”

Her final statement manages to draw a blush from her boss, and he groans. “I’m going to regret letting the two of you meet, aren’t I?” His answer is two near identical looks of impish innocence. Anders pouts at them, but is more than thankful to have both in his life.

“So what did you bring for lunch?” He’s answered by the fantastic aroma that drifts out of the container Mitchell cracks open. The vampire, now certain of his welcome, strides confidently into the office. In short order the brunet has laid out his burdens on the table: spaghetti carbonara, garlic bread, salad, and tableware, supplemented with various drinks from the office fridge. Anders wishes he could tease Mitchell about a vampire eating garlic bread, but holds off because of Dawn’s presence.

“I didn’t know I had this much food in my fridge!”

“You didn’t,” Mitchell snorts. “I had to run to the dairy for a few things.”

“This looks incredible, Mitchell. We should get you to cater all our lunches,” Dawn adds.

The brunet shrugs modestly. “I’ve been living on my own for awhile, so I picked up a few things. Didn’t want to live off takeaway forever.”

Anders knows this is at least partially a lie and has new insight about what it might be like for Mitchell. He must know so much simply from how long he’s been alive, more than someone should know for the age he appears to be. With each new person he meets, how does he decide what parts of himself to share? What half-truths and stories to tell? What would it be like to have to constantly re-invent yourself in order to blend in?

Mitchell raises an eyebrow at the suddenly sobered look in Anders’ blue eyes, but doesn’t question further when he shakes his head minutely. Dawn may be informed of their relationship; it doesn’t mean she’s aware of _all_ their secrets.

Dawn, oblivious to the brief byplay, continues to praise Mitchell’s cooking. “Seriously, this smells incredible.”

The brunet grins at her enthusiasm. “Wait to taste it before you say anything further. I went to a posh restaurant in Edinburgh once and was convinced by the smell to try haggis. Turns out the spices _don’t_ make up for the ingredients. It was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

Anders is torn between making a vampire joke or a sexual one, but Dawn sees his expression and forestalls either by shoving a fork full of pasta in as soon as he opens his mouth.

Thwarted from his original intention, he fakes a look of disgust at the flavour. He instantly regrets the impulse when Mitchell’s face falls. It’s a struggle to swallow as fast as he wants after that so he can apologize. “I just wanted to tease, this tastes amazing. You should be a cook at that pub rather than a server.”

The brunet brightens instantly at the compliment, the faintest flush dusting his cheeks. “I’m not that good. There’s only a few things I can cook well.”

Silence falls as they lay into the food, but conversation trickles back in as they begin to fill up. Dawn and Mitchell get along brilliantly, and after awhile Anders stops contributing and just enjoys listening to their chatter. Once he’s finished the last bite he looks sadly at his empty plate, and sighs at the pile of work on his desk.

“Thanks for bringing that, it was way better than grabbing a quick sandwich. I think you should head out now though, I’ve got a ton of work to do still if I want to leave on time tonight.”

The brunet glances at the stack of paper and nods in acquiescence. He’s as quick about packing everything up as he was setting it out and soon the table is spotless again. Somehow in that time, Dawn has also talked him around to promising to provide lunch from time to time.

“Dawn, it was so nice to meet you,” he nods in her direction and turns to Anders for a last kiss. “See you later love. I’ll definitely do _everything_ you asked in that letter.” His suggestive leer has the blond shifting as he suddenly finds his trousers a bit tight.

Mitchell pauses for a last casual wave, careful to shut the door behind himself. Anders turns to go back to work, pausing when Dawn speaks.

“I like him, he’s good for you.” Anders starts to smile when he’s halted as she continues, “so you’d better not fuck it up. I don’t want to have to smack you over the head and fix things for you.” With that startling order, she smiles sweetly at him and gets back to work.

Despite the threat, he’s warmed by her support. Anders has a sneaking suspicion that Mitchell will be receiving a similar talk. He really doesn’t want to see what she’d do to follow through. Dawn has a core of steel, although she doesn’t often demonstrate it so openly.

Anders is in a fantastic mood all afternoon and almost flies through the work. He’s never had such an incredible flow of inspiration before; he gets more accomplished that he typically would in twice the time.

But when his phone rings and the caller ID is ‘prick’, his bubble bursts. “What is it, Mike?”

“I hope you’re ready, Anders. Stacey and Olaf have identified the Hunters. We’re dealing with them tomorrow. Meet at my bar at 1.”

“Fine,” is Anders’ flat agreement. Typical Mike, excluding him from the discussion and just expecting him to follow orders. At the same time, he’s not going to argue because he just wants to get it over with. “See you tomorrow.”

After hanging up on Mike when he tries to ask about why Anders agreed so quickly, he scrubs a hand through his hair in agitation.

“Everything alright?”

“Not really, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. I’ll be out of the office tomorrow afternoon though. There’s a bit of a family situation to deal with.”

Anders expects her to complain about his leaving as she usually does, but Dawn nods in understanding. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

He smiles gratefully and shakes his head. “Just keep the office running smoothly like you always do.”

His cell rings again about half an hour later. Unknown number. “You’ve reached Anders Johnson.”

“Hello Anders,” the confident tones of Michele filter through the line.

“Michele? Why are you calling me?”

“Do you still have Yggdrasil?”

“Of course I do.”

“You should bring it with you tomorrow,” it’s a suggestion, but as usual Michele makes it sound more like a command.

“Why would I do that?” confusion mingles with suspicion in his voice.

Michele sighs in resignation and explains. “Yggdrasil only grants power to women. I found out when Axl was sick that I can use it to heal, that’s why he got better so quickly. It’s also how I brought Ty back when he got rid of Hod.”

“Wait, so you can use it to...?”

“Bring people back from the dead, yes. Although I suspect only in certain cases,” she sounds cross about the suspected limitations to her power. “Still, if something goes wrong with the Hunters tomorrow it would be good to have it on hand.”

Anders is stunned, but finds himself nodding in agreement. “Of course. Hell, it’s yours.”

“You would hand Yggdrasil over to me?” It’s Michele’s turn for surprise.

“Sure. I mean, I can’t use it. I think we’ve resolved our past...differences of opinion...well enough that I can entrust it to you. I just hope you’d help me if I ever needed you to.”

“Yes, of course.” Michele’s voice turns contemplative. “It seems there’s more to you than I’d thought. See you tomorrow.”

Anders looks at his phone in bemusement when the call disconnects. He just shrugs at Dawn’s quizzical look. “It’s been one of those days.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being so patient with me, I hope this chapter was worth the wait! October was a weird month for me, I apologize for taking so long to get this chapter up. This will be the second-to-last chapter in this story! I will definitely be writing a sequel, though it will be some time before it's ready to start posting. I'm also planning a series of side-shots for this universe. I have some planned already, but I'd love to hear about anything you would like to see that wasn't shown in this fic.
> 
> Thanks as always to TheGreenSorceress and datsunblue for looking this over and pointing out my mistakes.
> 
> **Warnings for this chapter: Violence, verbal abuse, homophobia, blood**

Anders pauses to stare at the modern glass-fronted building with apprehension coiling in his gut. The New Church of the Open Arms appears so innocuous for a building housing a group that wants to wipe his kind from the planet. And had nearly succeeded in his case. If Mitchell hadn’t been there... He’s not particularly enthusiastic about meeting his would-be murderer again.

It’s not that he isn’t confident in his powers. He’d stopped a group of tourists on his way to Mike’s only an hour ago, and they had been happy to follow his every command. But Anders feels exposed and vulnerable being here without anyone he trusts to back him up. Ty had been _verboten_ by Mike on the grounds that he was no longer a god. He didn’t trust any of the others to help him in the event that all of this goes sideways. Well, Olaf would; but he’s so stoned that by the time he notices anything going wrong it will be too late anyways.

Strangely, he thinks that Michele is the most likely to be of help. She’s been looking at him speculatively ever since he handed over Yggdrasil, as promised. Even so, Anders wishes that he’d brought Mitchell along.

When they had discussed it the previous night, it had made sense not to provoke Mike by bringing the vampire along. Especially since Mitchell had work that day. But now Anders is regretting the loss of the one person who he can count on to support him.

It seems Bragi wants to remind him he’s not alone; the familiar warm golden glow of his god serves to steady his nerves. There’s something new to the feeling however, something he tentatively identifies as _Mitchell_. The thought buoys him up and gives him the confidence to step forward. Just in time too, as it seems Mike has lost patience with his hesitation.

His older brother turns to glare at him with a pointed, “let’s go, people.”

Michele is the first to strut confidently towards the church. “Let’s kick some God-bothering arse!”

Suddenly Anders feels a little sorry for the Hunters. He certainly wouldn’t want to mess with her the way she’s swinging that stick around.

The reality of their confrontation with the Hunters is actually rather anti-climactic. Anders’ hasty commands to Natalie have stuck, and the whole group seems a little less sure in their mission. The seven of them startle wide-eyed from their prayer as the Norse pantheon strides into their church.

Still... “It’s him! The abomination!”

Oh lovely, they know who he is. “That’s a bit harsh.” It’s a relief that Natalie doesn’t seem to recognize him at all, equally shocked by the presence of the others.

“What did you do to my wife?” the same man who recognized him starts forward, arm outstretched, only to crumple when Michele bashes his elbow with Yggdrasil.  

Anders, who had been about to duck for cover, stares at her in confusion. For once, someone who he knows had held him in contempt in the past has acted to defend him. He’s not sure what to think of the sobbing form on the floor, there because he had been threatening Anders.

“Okay, let’s just- just everyone calm down,” Mike is quick to pull on his ‘voice of authority’. “We’re not here to hurt you; we just wanna talk, alright?” And there’s the look that Anders had been expecting, reproach to Michele for injuring the man in his defense.

“Demon,” the blonde woman who isn’t Natalie accuses shakily, pointing at Mike this time.

“No, we’re not demons. That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” Mike sighs heavily, looking irritably at the man still sobbing on the floor. He turns to Michele and jerks his finger in his direction. “Can you please do something about him?”

Michele huffs out a breath in exasperation. “Oh, don’t be such a big baby.” It only takes a few confident steps forward before she’s laying her hand on his broken arm, and Anders is left astounded when a glow leaks out and he can see the limb straightening again. She had told him of its power in her hands, but he had still been skeptical that the useless stick did anything at all.

“Oookay, I kinda just meant take him outside, but that’ll do I suppose.”

Michele shrugs at Mike’s half-hearted approval, returning to where she had been standing. The man, Anders is guessing Natalie’s husband by his earlier question, is staring at his arm in wonder. Almost in unison, he and the others begin muttering the Lord’s Prayer as they bow their heads and clasp their hands together.

“No, not time for praying,” Mike speaks over them loudly. “Time for answering questions.”

Anders decides that’s a good moment for him to step in, before they can start talking about how they found him in the first place. If Mike heard that he’d been found out because he was bragging in bars about being a god... well, he didn’t want to have that conversation. Ever.

“ ** _So, are all the members of your little group here right now?_** ” Anders steps forward before Mike can continue with his own questions. He probably doesn’t need to be using Bragi, they all seem fairly cowed by Michele’s demonstration, but it can’t hurt to be sure.

“No,” responds Natalie’s husband. He seems to be the spokesman for their group. Anders is just relieved it gives him an excuse to look away from Natalie. “There is one other member who is out on a holy mission to cleanse the world of your evil.”

“Ahh, shit,” Mike curses. “Make them tell us where they are. Who could they possibly be after though? Everyone but ... Axl...”

Anders is frustrated that Mike believes he has to tell him to ask, but ignores that for now. “Fine. Mike, you call Axl and warn him.” He turns back to the kneeling Hunters, “ ** _you, what’s your name anyways?_** ”

“Bevan,” responds the spokesman.

“ ** _Alright, Bevan, call your mate and then hand the phone to me._** ”

As the man complies, Michele sidles over to Anders. “What are you doing?”

“I guess we find out today if my new boost makes me strong enough to do this over the phone.”

“Well aren’t you a clever little god,” she replies with a sly grin.

“I seem to recall you saying that once before,” he returns her grin. It fades when Bevan holds the phone out. “Let’s hope things turn out as well this time...” he mutters under his breath, accepting the cell.

“ ** _What mission are you carrying out for the Lord?_** ” he demands. If this doesn’t work, they have to know who to call.

“I am going to destroy the false prophet known as Tyrone Johnson.”

“ ** _Tyrone_** **_Johnson is not a prophet, false or otherwise_** ,” Anders hears a furious discussion behind him, but he focuses all of his energy on convincing this man not to kill his little brother. “ ** _The person who warned you about false gods was trying to lead you astray. There is only one true God, and a belief that others may exist goes against His teachings. You will forget you ever believed otherwise, abort your mission, and return to your congregation._**

“ ** _If you will follow these instructions, then – bark like a dog_**.”

The blond feels lightheaded with relief when whoever he’s speaking to barks back. All the same, he’s not going to relax entirely until he knows that Ty is safe.

The others seem to have warning Ty of his danger well in hand, but he’s not finished speaking to the Hunters. “ ** _Bring me all of the information you collected on false gods_** ,” he commands. Minutes later, there’s a disorganized stack of papers and a couple flash drives tossed in front of him.

“ ** _And this is absolutely everything_**?”

The group gathered in front of him nod mutely.

“Good. Now, ok, look at me. **_The idea that there are Norse gods, pagan gods, or whatever gods walking the earth? That’s just crazy talk, alright? That’s complete religious nutjob thinking. So from now on, when you think back to this day, what you will think is that there are no false gods; there’s only one true God and anyone who tells you otherwise is blaspheming_**.

“ ** _Now go home. And do not mess with this stuff again, alright, because it’s no joke. You saw what the stick goddess can do, right? And that’s just the start. If you get what I just said, do – do this_** ,” Anders sticks his finger in his ear and watches in amazement as they all copy him.

“Ah, Jesus, Anders,” Mike isn’t pleased with his method of ensuring they’re taking in his commands.

“I’m not angling for that job, Mike, it doesn’t end well,” he retorts before quickly turning back to the enthralled Hunters. “ ** _But you guys keep worshipping the J-man, okay? Or Michele, who’s like some kind of vengeful god healer. She’d love a good worshipping_**.”

“Enough.”

“Uhm,” he clears his throat after Mike’s interjection. “ ** _Class dismissed. Go forth and live good Christian lives and have lots of Christian babies. If you remember anything about today, it will just seem like a very odd dream_**.” The group is on their feet and dispersing through the door before he turns to brush past Mike as he heads for the nearest exit.

“Does that meet your quality control standards, Mike?”

“Yes, Anders.” Mike is quick to take charge once more now that Anders has done his thing, probably cursing every moment that he had to rely on the blond to sway the group. “Get the paperwork, take everything with us.”

Anders snorts as he walks out the door, Mike acting like that was all his own idea is nothing new, but it still bothers him every time. He has to halt for a moment outside, hands on his knees as he breathes heavily from the bizarre blend of exhilaration and fear fuelled adrenaline. It was a thrill forcing them to follow his will, but more than a little strain to face down his almost-killer. He really _is_ stronger though, he’s not even a tiny bit hoarse from that expenditure of power, and Bragi is as bright as ever in his mind.

He glances up when his heart slows from its frantic pace to see Michele giving him an approving look. He borrows Mitchell’s arched brow to return her examination calmly.

“You’re full of surprises, Anders Johnson. You handled that better than I’d expected you would.”

“And you were expecting?”

She eyes him speculatively. “Less confident command, more cowering in fear.”

He’s about to indignantly remind her of when he put a halt to her plan to frame Axl, when her next sentence sends his stomach plummeting.

“It seems like tall, dark, and gorgeous has been good for you. With your reputation I’m surprised you’re still with him, but you should definitely keep him.”

In spite of his panic, he tries to laugh off her eerily accurate conclusions. “Mitchell? He’s just a mate, why would you think we’re together?”

As if sensing his apprehension, Michele moves closer and lowers her voice to reply. Anders’ eyes dart around looking for anyone who might overhear, but the others are off by the car congratulating each other on successfully putting a stop to the Hunters. _Cocks. It’s not like any of them did anything but stand around._

“I was watching the two of you that day when you first told us about the Hunters,” Michele draws his attention back. “He was protective of you, and you allowed him closer than you get to anyone.” She grins; a rueful little thing that looks odd on Michele’s usually perfectly composed face. It feels like she’s allowing him a glimpse beneath her mask in exchange for breaking his.

“My powers may not be as demonstrable as yours, or as flashy as Loki’s; however, I _am_ Sjöfn.”

“Goddess of love,” Anders nods as he continues for her.

“That’s right. I would have thought about trying out your Mitchell for a few nights had he not been so clearly _your_ Mitchell. It seems you’ve managed to bind yourselves even more closely since then; I can see a faint golden thread leading off in his direction.”

Anders startles, surprised that connection would be visible to anyone beyond the marks left behind. “It has to do with how I got that boost to my powers.” It’s his turn to eye her in consideration. “Maybe I’ll explain later.”

“I look forward to hearing how you managed that.”

After a moment’s hesitation, he asks, “so has anyone else drawn the same conclusions?”

“If by ‘anyone else’, you mean Mike, then no. He was too busy being angry at you to pay much attention. I don’t know about the others.”

The blond heaves a sigh of relief. She’s been open enough with him that he gives a bit of detail. “Mike is on my case enough about my sex life, about my life in general actually. I don’t want to know how bad he’d get if he figured out I swing both ways.”

She nods, satisfied for now although he can tell from the glint in her eye that she knows that’s not the entire reason he’s keeping it from Mike. “You’re interesting indeed, maybe not such a minor god after all. You’re almost making me regret missing my chance with you.”

He can’t help the corresponding surge of lust at the reminder he’d been so close to her bed; she _is_ an absolutely stunning woman after all. “Ah, but then Mike would be dead and you’d have missed your chance with _him_.” Anders is happy with Mitchell, and he’s not going to regret past opportunities that may have cost him his chance to meet the Irishman.

Michele acknowledges the point with a graceful inclination of her head, at the same time gesturing in invitation to rejoin the others. And just in time too, Mike is looking their way with suspicion and jealousy.

“Your secret is safe with me,” Michele promises before they reach the others.

His elder brother appears to want to corner him so he can demand to know why he was speaking to Michele; but she diverts Mike before he gets too far, and tosses a wink Anders’ way before pulling the builder into a thoroughly distracting kiss. Anders breathes a sigh of relief at the save, relaxing for a moment and therefore being quite startled when Olaf catches him around the neck in a celebratory hug.

“C’mon, Anders, we’re all going to Mike’s bar for some drinks now that we’ve defeated our nemeseses. Nemesi? Nemeses?” he pauses for a moment, wrestling with the correct pluralisation. “The Hunters!” he finally decides, tugging the blond in his wake.

“Alright, Grandpa, I’m coming,” Anders forces a laugh. “I can walk on my own; you don’t have to drag me.” It’s a relief when Olaf releases him; his nerves have been scraped raw through the confrontation and the subsequent worry that Mike had figured out who Mitchell is to him. With that on top of his usual aversion to touch, well, he’s not going to be standing too close to anyone today.

Still, he follows them back to the bar readily enough. It’s not so much a bar anymore now that Michele has convinced Mike to renovate, but there’s still plenty of booze. As long as they ignore the tools and piles of rubble, it’s a fine place for a party.

They’re all in a good mood after the day’s success; Mike has even lightened up and invited Ty to join them. He’s eager to hear the full story after Mike’s call warning him of the threat.

“Here’s to you, bro.” Ty raises his bottle in a toast to Anders. “Thanks for getting that info from them before I had some fanatical nutbar after me. How did you get your powers to work over the phone?”

“You’re welcome, little bro.” Anders knocks his bottle against Ty’s. And then, relaxed by the atmosphere of camaraderie and actual recognition he’s receiving, he lets slip something he regrets too late to take it back. “I didn’t know the phone thing was going to work, but with the boost from Mitchell it seemed like it was worth a shot.”

“Is the boost from him being a vampire?”

Mike has only been paying idle attention to the two, not having much interest in hearing Anders congratulated; but like the hunter he is, the words ‘Mitchell’ and ‘vampire’ catch his attention.

Anders fails for once to notice the shift in Mike’s attention. “Yeah, something along those lines.” Since Ty has already guessed some of it, he continues to explain. “I’m not entirely sure how it works, but Gaia said the ritual would boost my powers because we already had a bond.”

Ty sputters on his drink, brow drawing down in anger, and Anders realizes his mistake. “Bond? If you’re seeing Mitchell, where do you get off telling the women I’m interested in that I’m gay?”

The blond is already cringing in on himself, but he still makes a valiant effort to present his usual nonchalant attitude. “Seeing Mitchell? Why would you assume that from saying we have a bond, Ty? Don’t you and I share a bond as brothers?”

Ty’s sceptical face tells him his brother isn’t buying the attempt at deflection.

Anders sighs, conceding that he’s not getting out of this slip so easily. “I never said that you being gay was a _bad_ thing, Ty. In any case, none of them took me seriously. Thought it was just your older brother teasing you, which it was meant to be.”

“ _Dawn_ took you seriously.” Ty is close to shouting now, his face thunderous. Anders would think that the room had gotten colder if he didn’t know that Hod is gone.

“ _Dawn_ did not take me seriously, she told me so herself. And speaking of her, you need to lay off of the stalking already.”

“I’m not stalking her! I just want her to remember me so we can be together again!” Ty slams his hand on the counter hard enough to shake all the bottles resting on top.

“Ty, the way you’re going about it is stalking. You’re going to scare her into avoiding you if you keep this up.” The blond tries to get him off this tangent before...

“How _dare_ you interfere with my relationships that way when you’re gay yourself?”

...before he can shout something like that.

Every eye in the bar is focussed on Anders now. It’s not the kind of attention he enjoys, the kind he can command with Bragi. He’s struggling not to curl into himself in the tucked position that past confrontations have taught him is the safest.

This is exactly what he’d been afraid of when he was talking to Michele earlier; and still, with a few careless words he’s destroyed one of his oldest secrets. Not since he turned 21 and had Bragi take up residence has he felt so exposed and vulnerable in front of a group. Bragi isn’t going to get him out of this one, though the god’s warmth reminds him he has at least one supporter.

Michele catches his eye, and he can see sympathy in her steady blue gaze, but he knows she won’t speak until the situation has been assessed thoroughly. The only other person who looks like they might be supportive is Ingrid. Olaf simply looks shocked, and Stacey is settling in for the show. His brothers are simply furious.

He observes this in a heartbeat. He can’t run fast or far enough to get away from Mike, so his only option is his words.

“Ty,” Anders almost croaks. “I really am sorry. It was intended to tease you, and all the women took it as such. Most of your positive qualities are gay stereotypes. Playing it off as a joke let me point out how great you are without getting all mushy.

“If I’d known it bothered you past your usual irritation with everything I say, I would have stopped. I thought it was like how you call me the ‘gayest god ever’. And I’m bisexual, not gay. I still like women just fine.”

Ty calms a little, only a little but it’s enough, with his explanation. “So why did Dawn send me tickets to _Sing Along Sound of Music_ then, if you hadn’t convinced her I was gay?”

“Bro, I know she’s subtle about it most of the time, but have you _not_ noticed that Dawn is a bit of a smartass? Besides, it got you to talk to her about something other than _me_ , didn’t it?”

Ty is smiling a little ruefully now, somewhat distracted by fond memories, and Anders feels some of the knot of terror come loose. It’s convenient that for all Ty’s hot temper, he cools down quickly enough. It all crashes back down a moment later when Mike’s hands fist in the lapels of his suit and slam his back with bruising force into the bar.

“So you’ve taken a male lover and he’s a fucking _vampire_?”

Anders’ hands reflexively grab at Mike’s wrists. He feels like he’s twelve all over again, dangling helplessly from his father’s grip because he’d been spotted holding hands with another boy in his class.

When the blond doesn’t respond to his first accusation, Mike shakes him violently before demanding, “What were you thinking, taking up with a soulless creature like that? Was he a good fuck? I hope he was worth putting your family in danger for!”

It’s the insult to Mitchell that galvanizes Anders. “I was thinking that Mitchell is the only person who gives a fuck about me!”

Mike stares, stunned, when Anders breaks his grip and shoves him hard enough to send him backpedaling halfway across the room. His glare turns vicious and the corner of his mouth turns down in a scowl as he goes back on the offensive. “How do you know those aren’t sweet lies he’s feeding you? He probably only wants you for a fuck toy or a blood bank. Or maybe he wants you to Bragi people into letting him feed. That’s all you’re good for anyways.”

Anders freezes, mind going blank as Mike hammers at one of his deepest fears. He’d think _Mike_ was the one with the gift for words, but perhaps it’s his hunter’s instincts allowing him to zero in on a target. Mike is smirking, knowing he’s scored a hit.

“ _No, Mitchell isn’t like that. He wouldn’t use me like that. He promised he’d never hurt me, and I know he means it_ ,” he frantically insists to himself. Anders isn’t sure if it’s Bragi or his bond with Mitchell, but something helps him remember that Mike’s words aren’t true.

“Face it, Anders. Your only worth is what you can do for others. Why would anyone ever really care for a cowardly little fag like you? Dad was right; you never belonged in this family. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have to fix your messes all the time.”

It’s the same crap he’s heard and believed had some truth all his life; from Dad, from Mum, and eventually from Mike. But suddenly, he doesn’t believe it anymore.

“Fuck off, Mike, and take your self-righteousness with you. When have I _ever_ needed you to ‘clean up my messes’? I’m pretty sure that’s what you lot usually call _me_ for, and then take all the credit after I fix your problem.”

Mike’s jaw drops open as Anders dares to stand up for himself for the first time in _years_. Still, he’s not willing to surrender his fury that easily. “What was the whole mess with the Hunters then? You fucked up and exposed our secret, so we had to fix things for you.”

“What part of that did you fix for me, Mikkel?” Anders is incredulous. “Stacey and Olaf helped by going undercover and figuring out when they met. Michele did her shock and awe thing with the stick; and thank you for that by the way,” he nods his gratitude to the tall goddess. “All _you_ did was stand around and order me to do what I would have anyways.

“Hell, the Māori pantheon was more helpful than you, and they had no reason to be. So how would you justify that as bailing me out?”

“I’ve been cleaning up after you your whole life, you little shit. And I probably will have to again, once you piss off you new vampire boyfriend just by being you. I hope this time all I have to clean up is your body,” Mike hisses.

“Whoa, Mike, that’s going _way_ too far,” Ty tries to intercede at last. “I’m pissed at Anders too, but wishing him dead?”

But Mike is too caught up in his rage to listen. Anders thinks he can see a flash of Ullr in his eyes, but he’s determined not to be his prey this time.

“It’s nice to know what you really think of me, Mike. That you’d rather I was dead than bi. Or is it that I should be dead rather than happy? Because you’re not really worried about the threat Mitchell poses to the family, you’d be going after him rather than me if that was the case.”

Anders strides forward as he speaks until he’s face to face with his older brother. “Are you angry because you’re jealous I’ve found someone? What was it; that a ‘cowardly little fag like me’ is happy with someone, and you had no control over it? Because you like your control, don’t you, Mike? That’s why you stayed in your happy suburban hideaway for so long, isn’t it?

“You couldn’t control what happened to Rob, so you used Valerie as a substitute. Your perfect tragedy. Rob is in a coma so his best friend comforts his lovely grieving fiancée. Part of why you hate me so much is because I pointed out that you were just a substitute for her as well; because I was right about what would happen if Rob ever woke up. I was banished because you couldn’t control me, so I would ruin your perfect happy little family.

“But now I’ve found someone who not only cares about me, but who’s made me stronger too, and you can’t stand that. Can you, Mikkel?

“I just hope you don’t think you can control Michele...”

Anders is going to continue now that he’s hit his stride, all of his long silenced frustrations with Mike pouring out at once. The older god has heard enough though. The rage boiling under his skin explodes.

“SHUT **_UP_**!” Mike picks Anders up and hurls him, flailing, to land in the rubbish from the renovations. Everyone stares in shocked silence at the too still form until a new figure appears, panting, in the doorway.

“What the _fuck_ is going on here?” Mitchell demands.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning: This chapter deals with canon-compliant injury and blood, and discussions of abuse.**

The dinner rush hasn’t yet started at Mitchell’s work when he feels an abrupt spike of terror from Anders through the bond. It’s shocking enough that he drops his serving tray, which thankfully only has a few empty pint glasses. His first instinct is to bolt straight to where the bond is telling him his god is, but he suppresses that impulse long enough to pretend a call about an emergency has come in. Cooper grumbles about it, but he reads the honest fear in Mitchell’s eyes and lets him go.

As he sprints across town, the brunet wonders what could possibly have Anders so afraid. It’s not the Hunters; he’d gotten a text earlier about his success. With panic clawing at his chest, the vampire doesn’t care what others might think of his supernatural speed.

He arrives at the bar in time to hear a crunch and notice blood beginning to scent the air. “What the _fuck_ is going on here?” he demands of the room at large before he sees the figure in the rubble. If he had a heartbeat, it would stutter to a stop when he identifies the crumpled form as Anders and scents the vital fluid leaking from him. His panic eases a little when the blond groans and moves to sit up.

Mitchell barely registers the rest of the Johnsons and company standing around gaping at the sight before he’s at Anders’ side, gently helping him turn over. The others set up a frantic murmur in the background at the sight of blood dripping between Anders’ fingers where his hand is pressed to his neck, and at least one pair of footsteps pounds up the stairs.

_“Nonono, he can’t die, I won’t let him!”_ Mitchell isn’t sure how much of his panicked thoughts he’s voicing aloud. Knowing it will hurt, that it could possibly kill him and not caring, Mitchell gently moves Anders’ hand and bends to seal his mouth around the wound. He hopes that the healing factor in his saliva will close it before the blond loses too much. The blood burns like acid on his tongue, but he’s not going to stop until Anders is safe.

The angry mutter of voices in the background gets louder, but he disregards it until he feels a hand grab his shoulder roughly, trying to drag him away. They’re not pulling hard enough to dislodge him, and that’s all he cares about right up until he feels another pair of arms trying to close around his waist.

Mitchell snaps around, eyes flat black and fangs bared as a snarl of absolute menace tears from his throat. If any of the Johnsons interfere with him helping Anders, in this moment, he will not hesitate to tear out their throats. He sees Olaf and Ty’s pale and shaken faces as they back away and, satisfied they won’t bother him again, turns back to the blond in his arms. He pauses only to spit out the blood clogging his mouth. If the murmurs begin again at that action, he doesn’t care to notice them.

The wound is as sealed as he can make it, but still pulsing out more blood than he’d like through the ragged flesh. The vampire licks over the injury repeatedly, pressing his tongue down firmly and hoping against hope that it will help.

“No, please no,” he mutters brokenly over and over against the blond’s neck. Tears well up and threaten to spill at the thought of losing him. Mitchell comes close to attacking the owner of the hand that touches his shoulder next, but this one is gentle and not seeking to pull him away.

“I can heal him if you let me close enough,” Michele offers quietly.

Mitchell’s head snaps up to stare at her in disbelief, but then he spots Yggdrasil. Anders had told him last night about its powers in her hands. Nodding in relief, he shifts until Anders is leaning against him.

He watches her work in awe.

“Ohhh, I really hate blood.”

Despite her occasional mutters and the way she’s turning her head away, her power is astounding. All she has to do is touch the injury for a healing glow to suffuse her hand. The vampire can feel an unpleasant prickle from having the power of the World Tree at work so close, but he’d endure far worse to have Anders healed.

When she lifts her hand, the blood is the only sign that Anders was ever injured at all. He only faintly registers her complaint, too caught up in looking over his lover for lingering wounds. Not even a slight scar remains to mark where there had been tattered skin only a moment before. He looks Anders over a final time before meeting her calm gaze, his eyes shining with gratitude.

“Thank you so much,” he manages to choke out before burying his face in blond locks. Relief and shock war for dominance, and he bites back the tears that are threatening once again. The next time he looks up, it’s to meet Ander’s blue eyes slowly fluttering open.

“He’ll live,” Michele says, and Mitchell has to agree, relieved. From his experience in the hospital and as a vampire, Anders is probably edging on class II blood loss. “There’s brain damage to be concerned about, but it’s unlikely.”

“He didn’t lose enough for potential brain damage,” Mitchell disagrees. He can see the relief in Anders’ eyes when he passes judgement.

“I supposed you _would_ be the expert in blood loss, _vampire_ ,” Mike bites out.

Suddenly Mitchell has a sinking feeling about how Anders wound up with a slashed jugular.

“Now’s not the time for that, Mike.” Michele’s tone is icy. From what Mitchell can see, all the other eyes in the bar are turned on him accusingly.

A weak voice draws his attention back to Anders. “M’chell? When d’d you get here?”

He smoothes a hand over blond hair, still compulsively checking to ensure Anders is alright. He realizes his mistake when the motion smears blood through the golden waves. “I got here just as you were doing your nosedive into that pile,” Mitchell makes an effort to keep his tone light, hoping desperately it was a drunken accident and not what he suspects from the way the others are regarding Mike.

Anders scrunches his nose at the tacky feeling of blood in his hair. “What’d you do that for? Now I have to take a shower.”

He can’t help but laugh at the complaint. “You need a shower for a lot more than your hair. I’m sorry though, love, I’d forgotten it was on my hand.”

“Fine, whatever. Did you do the same thing with your face?”

The reminder breaks the light mood Mitchell has been trying to create, and brings to his attention the pain he’s been ignoring in his single-minded focus on Anders. Still, he can deal with it later. “No. That’s because vampiric saliva has some healing properties, and I was trying to seal the wound before Michele stepped in.”

Anders’ face is a hilarious mix of startled, grossed out, and pleased, before horror bleeds in. “Mitchell? But you said that my blood hurts you, that it could...”

Mitchell interrupts before he can say more. “...’m fine. I didn’t swallow any. I couldn’t just do _nothing_ though.”

Anders’ expression softens. “Thank you.” He’s about to say more when someone shuffles and he remembers they aren’t alone. Instantly his defenses are back up and he tries to stand, but Mitchell stops his weak efforts easily.

“I should take you home,” the vampire mutters quietly. Eyeing the blond though, he can see an immediate problem with that plan. “Michele? Would it be possible to get some damp towels so we can clean up a bit first? I’m not sure going outside covered in blood is such a good idea.”

Michele nods in agreement. From the way she’s been wringing her hands together, she’s relieved for the excuse to go wash up a bit herself. Mike follows her into the loo, and Mitchell can hear angry words exchanged although not much more than that. Mike is visibly more subdued when they return, and Michele has a tiny smile dancing around the corner of her mouth when she hands him the requested towels.

Anders tries to bat his hands away and do it himself, but Mitchell patiently dabs the blood off his hair and neck. He has to see for himself that the dried red isn’t hiding any injuries that may have been missed.

“Mitchell,” the blond whines.

“Please, just let me do this?” Something in the husky tone of his voice convinces Anders to nod and settle. It’s not until he moves on to cleaning himself off that he asks what he’s been wondering the entire time. “How did this happen, anyways?”

Anders tenses and shifts awkwardly, and the dread builds again that the answer is what he’d feared. “Promise you won’t go after Mike, alright? I should have known what to expect if I got him angry.”

Mitchell makes a punched out, wounded sound at his response, and it’s accompanied by several gasps from the others. Though Anders is speaking quietly, it sounds louder in the expectant stillness.

When Mitchell doesn’t respond immediately, Anders insists again. “Promise me, Mitchell.”

The brunet is relieved that he’s strong enough to make demands, but all he wants to do is carry him out of here to where he can take care of him. It’s not Anders he looks at when he makes his vow, but Mike. His eyes lock with the oldest brother’s as he speaks, flickering between hazel and black with his anger and frustration. “I promise I won’t hurt him...this time. But ‘they made me angry’ is _never_ a good excuse; especially not for this level of hurt. If it happens again, there _will_ be consequences.”

Mike’s hands clench and unclench as he tries to stare Mitchell down and fails. Their silent standoff is broken when Michele lands an open-handed slap to the back of Mike’s head. “Don’t be an idiot, Mike. You’ve already attempted to murder your brother because he told you some things you didn’t want to hear, let’s not add getting disassembled by his vampire lover to your list of accomplishments.”

She brushes by him to stand by the pair, reclaiming the towels and ignoring Mike’s sputtering attempts to justify himself. Her gaze as she looks down on them is fonder than Mitchell would have expected from what he’s heard. He’s curious about what had happened between her and Anders to change that.

“Thank you. For everything,” Mitchell says earnestly, looking up at the tall brunette.

“You’re welcome, Mitchell. You’d best get him home though. He’s going to need a lot of rest and fluids.”

The vampire nods. He wants to scoop Anders up and carry him, but he knows the proud blond wouldn’t thank him for it, especially in front of his family. Mitchell has to settle for helping him to his feet and a supportive arm around his waist. Before he can turn them to go, Axl steps forward.

“Anders... are you going to be ok?” His voice shakes slightly as he speaks, matching the tremors Mitchell can feel Anders trying to hide.

“I’ll be fine, Axl,” he smiles warmly at his younger brother. “I’m sure I’ll be back to annoying you lot soon enough.”

Axl heaves a sigh of relief, accepting Anders at his word. Mitchell had seen fury warring with concern in his expression in the small moments he hadn’t been solely focussed on his lover, and is pleased that concern has won out. He takes a final moment to survey the rest of those present and look for any reactions he might need to keep in mind for the future.

Not much new presents itself. The short, fit blonde woman appears to be unconcerned by what has gone on, but she does flick a disapproving look at Mike every so often. The curly-haired brunette in bohemian skirts standing beside her wears compassion on her open face as she looks at Anders. He’s not concerned about Ty; from what Anders has said, he’s the brother who the blond is closest to. Olaf is visibly worried for Anders and is looking at Mike in a way that suggests a _talk_ in their future. Michele has already expressed her support.

Mitchell would like to get to know the brunette better; her actions today don’t match what he’d observed of her in their previous meeting. He would have to keep an eye on Axl though, that fury in the face of Anders’ severe injury was worrying.

Finally, there was Mike. He’s still glowering at Anders, though it has lessened in force with the reproach from Mitchell and from Michele. Mitchell decided to give him something to consider before this anger worked its way into another layer of resentment.

“Think about this, Mike,” he tosses back over his shoulder as he turns them to leave. “The only reason why you aren’t beaten bloody and left on the floor to regret what you’ve done today is because the man you tried to kill asked me not to.”

He ignores any response Mike might try to make, concentrating on helping his lover on their wavering journey to his car. Neither Mitchell nor Anders speak, the only sound between the two is Anders’ grumbling when Mitchell filches his car keys from his pocket. He doesn’t object when he’s helped into the passenger seat though. It’s a quick trip back to the apartment and a slower one up the stairs.

Once inside, Ander moves towards the couch, but Mitchell redirects him to the bath instead. The scent of his blood is a burning itch under Mitchell’s skin, a reminder of how close he came to losing him and of the acid pain from swallowing it in an effort to save him.

It’s the work of moments to turn on the shower, and he starts stripping down before noticing Anders isn’t doing the same. He’s completely naked in front of the blond by the time he settles on what to do.

Mitchell is reluctant to break the tired silence, but he needs some sort of reaction and consent from Anders. The other man shut down as soon as they left the bar, and his continued passivity is a worry. “Anders?” he waits for glazed blue eyes to focus on his own before he continues, “Can I help you into the shower?”

Anders nods in assent, a hum his only verbal agreement. The blond leans into the vampire as Mitchell peels off his layers, blanching at the sheer volume of dried blood revealed. It had spilled down his front and back, matting in his chest hair and trickling past his waistband. Long trails have traced down the muscles of his legs. Mitchell moans deep in his chest, holding back his desire to clutch Anders protectively.

He feels the first stirring of relief when Anders moves toward the shower on his own, only slight support needed when he wobbles once. Mitchell is quick to follow him in. The shower is tight confines for the two men, but right now Mitchell needs to be as close as possible to reassure himself, and Anders shouldn’t be left to stand on his own just yet. The thick coppery scent is even stronger in the small space. It’s starting to make Mitchell nauseous, and he wants it gone.

Anders stands, head bowed, facing in to the pounding spray. His body is almost too still, but when Mitchell clasps a supportive hand to his shoulder he covers it with his own. They remain in silence for long moments, the only sound from the water cascading over their bodies. He probably should have drawn Anders a bath, but he couldn’t bear the thought of red staining the bathwater. Far better for it to swirl away down the drain.

 

Finally, Mitchell can’t wait any longer to clean off the crusted blood, too much for the water to sweep away. Grabbing the soap, his hands tenderly scrub over the planes of Anders’ body. He uses the opportunity to reassure himself that Anders is whole once more, all wounds healed by Michele’s intervention. Anders doesn’t speak, but his contented sighs and the way he leans into Mitchell’s touch let him know it’s welcome.

Mitchell feels the atmosphere change when he tugs Anders out of the direct spray enough to work a lather into his blond waves. The sensation of nails scratching across his scalp causes Anders to make quite a different sort of noise. Mitchell stills when he hears him moan, worried he’s hit some previously unnoticed injury, but he’s reassured when the blond growls a complaint and twists his head to force him to continue. This time, when he meets blue eyes, they’re glazed over with a very different emotion. Looking down further, he sees evidence of Anders’ awakening interest.

Mitchell grins wickedly as he resumes his motions, watching Anders’ eyes slide shut in pleasure as his cock stiffens to full attention. Perhaps it’s not ‘normal’ behaviour after a near-death experience, but Anders is enjoying himself and Mitchell will never deny him that.

“Keep your eyes shut,” he requests in a hush, washing the suds out of blond hair and keeping up his gentle massage. When the water runs clear, he slides on hand down Anders’ body to rest beside his flushed prick. “Would you like some help taking care of this?” he murmurs into his ear, delighted by the full-body shudder he receives.

“Please.”

That’s all Mitchell needs to hear before he’s in motion. He carefully spins Anders so the shorter man’s back is flush to his chest, one hand wrapping firmly around his cock while the other traces the line of hair from his collarbone down. Catching Anders’ mouth in this position would be awkward, so he settles for peppering his neck and shoulders with kisses. Anders shivers in his arms when he experimentally scrapes his teeth across the vertebra at the base of his neck. Curious, he repeats it and grins against his neck when Anders groans. He can feel his cock jump when he sucks a bruise into the skin.

Mitchell turns his focus from Anders’ neck to his heavy shaft.   The first time they did this, on the beach, he was paying far more attention to his expression and reactions. This is a good chance to explore their differences. Anders’ cock is a little shorter, but thicker than his own. Mitchell watches in fascination as Anders’ foreskin glides beautifully under his hand when he strokes along his shaft.

Anders shudders under Mitchell’s hands when he draws back the foreskin enough to carefully run a finger from his other hand around the edge of the cap, tracing the sensitive ridge. He outright moans when the brunet strokes a little harder at the small divot under the crown. His other hand strokes back towards the head, pushing the skin over his exploring finger.

“Fuck, Mitchell, what are you doing?” Anders pants, gripping his wrists but making no move to pull his hands away.

“Exploring,” Mitchell responds calmly. He plasters himself even closer along the blond’s back, rutting his own hardness into Anders’ fantastic arse. “I’m cut, you’re not.”

“Ngh,” Anders drops his head back onto Mitchell’s shoulder with a groan when he slides over the head with a slippery palm. “Why did you decide to explore _now_?”

“Mostly because I can. I’m taking advantage of being this close to you, I can feel as well as see all your reactions this way.” He twists his head enough to suck on Anders’ earlobe, but keeps one eye on where his hands are moving.

“And you like – fuck, Mitch – you like my reactions?”

“They’re gorgeous. You’re gorgeous.”

“You’re just saying that so I’ll let you fuck me later.” Anders reaches behind to grab Mitchell’s ass and grind himself against his dick. He’s playing it off lightly, but Mitchell can hear the note of insecurity he’s trying to hide.

The brunet can’t let that stand. Anders gasps when he’s spun to face Mitchell and caught in a firm kiss. He uses his tongue to part the seam of Anders’ lips so he can lick into his mouth until he’s breathless and panting before he releases the blond. “I would never say anything just to get in your pants, love. Or your arse, as the case may be.”

Anders’ choked laugh turns into a groan when Mitchell drops to his knees and swallows him down. His fingers twine through brunet curls as his partner does his best to make him lose his mind.

Mitchell alternates between swallowing him deep and drawing back the foreskin so he can lick around the crown. He doesn’t want to give Anders any time to think. This is going to be quick and dirty if he has anything to say about it. He has to palm his own cock occasionally to relieve some pressure, but this isn’t about him. He can wait until later to get off. It’s enough that he can feel Anders’ enjoyment through the bond.

Anders is babbling now, a meaningless string of words interspersed with endearments and epithets. Mitchell has to move his hands to his hips to support the trembling blond. Anders tugs harder on Mitchell’s curls at a particularly firm suck, the spike of pleasure making the brunet moan around the length in his mouth. The vibrations are it for Anders; he comes down Mitchell’s throat with a loud cry.

Mitchell is absolutely shocked when the waves of pleasure that wash over him through the bond are enough to set off his own orgasm. He has to struggle to focus enough to swallow Anders’ come without choking while his own cock, untouched, spurts out his release across the tiles. Once he’s calmed down enough from his high, Mitchell is on his feet to support his shaky lover.

“Fuck, that was way better than I’d imagined,” Anders pants into Mitchell’s chest.

Mitchell quirks a smile. “You’d imagined...what?”

The blond looks up with a lazy grin. “So I may have fantasized about you blowing me in the shower that night you asked to take it slow. And can I just say how rare it is for reality to come out on top? I have a very vivid imagination.”

Mitchell laughs, “I’m sure you do,” he responds, leaning in for a slow kiss. “Think we should get out before the water runs cold?”

Anders nods and reaches for the taps. When he steps out of the shower, Mitchell takes the opportunity to look him over carefully. He seems to be much more himself now, and the lack of blood allows Mitchell’s last knot of tension to unwind.

It doesn’t take long for the pair to towel themselves off and pad naked into the bedroom to dress, Mitchell keeping one eye on Anders in case he becomes unsteady again. He’s relieved he followed up on Anders’ suggestion and actually has some sleepwear to slip in to. He’d much rather walk home nude than ever wear the clothes stained by his lover’s blood again.

“I’ll be right back, love,” he says over his shoulder once dressed, keeping in mind Michele’s instructions to get fluids into the blond. Fortunately Anders has started to stock drinks other than alcohol in his kitchen and it doesn’t take long to pour him some juice and make tea for them both. He pauses a moment to just hold the mug in his hands, savouring the warmth; closing his eyes and letting the scent carry him back to that little pink house in Bristol.

He doesn’t miss his last months there, not really, fraught with tension as they were. Nor does he regret his decision to leave, not with the target he made himself by claiming Herrick’s death. But he does miss George and Annie and even Nina. If they were here, Annie would be fussing over him and Anders both. George would be fretting, wringing his hands anxiously but doing his best to help. And it would be nice to have a nurse nearby in case Anders takes a turn for the worse.

He’s not sure what Anders would make of the trio, but he hopes to have the chance to find out some day.

For now though, it’s time to take care of his lover. Warmth unfurls in his chest when he pushes the door open to see that Anders had also chosen to dress in something comfortable. He’s not yet seen the blond so relaxed and unguarded, without the careful image he’s cultivated for the world. The expression of trust for him to be standing here now in nothing more than a worn t-shirt and pyjama pants, feet bare and hair tousled...it makes his breath catch in his throat.

“I love you.”

Anders turns, eyes wide and shocked. “What?” His voice sounds like he hardly dares to believe what he’s just heard.

Mitchell sets his burden down and takes two long strides across the room, gently reaching out to cradle Anders’ face in his palms. “I love you, Anders. When I walked in to that bar today and saw you lying crumpled and still, all I could think was that I couldn’t stand losing you.”

Anders’ blue eyes search his face, looking for any sign of untruth. Mitchell does his best to pour his feelings and his honesty into the bond, hoping Bragi will help convince the blond of his sincerity.

Finally he nods, his beard scraping against Mitchell’s callused skin. He can feel that Anders believes him now, but there’s still something...

“Why?”

“Why do I love you?”

Anders nods once more, but this time he turns out of Mitchell’s hold and walks to grab the glass of juice. It’s clearly an excuse not to look at the brunet when he answers, he can see the tension written through every line of his body.

“Why do you love me when no one...” he cuts himself off there, but it’s easy to finish that sentence for himself.

_“Why do you love me when no one else does?”_

Mitchell’s heart breaks for Anders, for all the fragility and self-doubt he can hear that the blond never allows himself to express. He wants to sweep him into his arms, but allows him the distance he seems to need.

“I would love to be able to put everything I feel for you in words, but I’m no poet. Not like you. The best answer I can give is; how could I not?”

Anders chuckles then, but there’s no humour in the sound. “How could you not? I can think of plenty of reasons why not. Just ask anyone that knows me.”

It takes Mitchell a beat to figure out how to speak around the lump in his throat. “Anders... what happened today?”

The blond starts at the question, clearly not expecting that response. Even where Mitchell’s standing he can see the tremors where his hand grips the glass, the increased stress giving the blood loss a greater effect once more. It takes quite some time before he gathers himself enough to speak, but Mitchell remains silent, poised to move only if he looks ready to collapse.

“I inadvertently outed myself – and you – to my family today. Needless to say, they didn’t take it well.”

“Mike almost killed you because you’re seeing me?” Mitchell asks, incredulous. “I should have shown him some _consequences_ after all.”

“Not quite,” Anders laughs darkly. “Ty was the first one to get pissed, I mentioned our bond and he figured out that it meant more than friends. He got a bit loud about that, and you being a vampire. So after I got him to calm down, Mike was on my case. It was the usual bullshit about me endangering the family and only being useful because of Bragi. Today though, I told him to fuck off with his self-righteous attitude. Shared some truths he’s been avoiding for a long time. It was then he got angry enough to toss me across the room. I don’t think he actually intended to kill me.”

His shoulders heave in a heavy sigh and some of the tension eases from his body, but he still doesn’t turn to face Mitchell. “In any case, I should have known better than to try to defend myself to my family. I learned that it never goes well a long time ago.”

“Anders...” Mitchell can’t remain still any longer. He moves to stand behind the blond, reaching out a hand to hover over his shoulder, so unsure if his touch will even be welcome at this point. Anders doesn't move or react in any way, not even the slightest release in his posture. Finally Mitchell sighs and allows his hand to fall back to his side.

“Even if Mike wasn’t trying to kill you, he shouldn’t have thrown you across the room. Christ, even vampires don’t usually get that rough with those they consider family.”

“Nice to know my family is less civilized than a bunch of monsters.”

Mitchell winces to hear himself described as a monster, though he can’t argue it. In any case, he’s more concerned with how flat Anders’ voice sounds. “Your...family? It’s not just Mike who pulls this?”

Another bleak chuckle. “I wish. No, mocking me or hurling me around is fun for the whole family! Dad and Mum certainly thought so anyways.”

Anders lets out an ‘oof’ of breath when he’s suddenly tugged back against Mitchell’s chest, tensing as the taller man wraps himself around him. Mitchell is worried that he’s made the wrong move and comes close to releasing him before Anders slumps into his hold.

“Fuck, Mitch, I’m so tired of being the punching bag. I get blamed for everything that goes wrong, even if it’s not my fault.” He sounds exhausted, and it tears at Mitchell that he’s not sure how to help. He stands there, holding Anders tightly, sending all the love and support he can down the bond, hoping desperately that it’s the right thing to do.

Anders sags a little further into his embrace, pausing to enjoy it before he continues speaking. “I suppose I shouldn’t hold it against them. It isn’t like people I’m _not_ related to are any different.”

Mitchell can’t hold back his choked sound of protest at that, and the noise actually manages to startle a tiny huff of real laughter from Anders.

“Except for you, sorry. And I guess Dawn as well. But being Bragi has some real downsides around mortals...” he trails off, probably lost in old memories. Mitchell can relate to that.

“What do you mean, downsides?” Mitchell asks hesitantly.

“All gods and goddesses have a bit of an indefinable allure for mortals. It seems to be part of why my powers work in the first place. Bragi’s voice draws people in, makes my ideas appealing until the person often comes to believe they came up with them.   Normally the effects wear off after a while. Sometimes to the extent that the person will forget we ever spoke. But sometimes...”

“Sometimes?” Mitchell prompts when the silence drags out.

Anders shakes himself as if surfacing from a dream. When he continues, it’s so quietly that Mitchell has to strain to hear him. “...sometimes, it has the opposite effect. People will become obsessed with me: either with the need to possess, or repulsed but still somehow craving contact. Either way, it doesn’t tend to end well for me.

“I told you about the three women who showed up in my apartment, right? They were some of the ‘repulsed’ type. They convinced me to do a line that turned out to be ketamine instead of coke, wrote nasty messages all over me, and intended to cut off my balls and glue my cock to my stomach.” Anders’ tone it dull as he relates the story, as if he’s speaking of someone else; but Mitchell can feel the tremors chasing through him at the memory. “If Axl hadn’t stopped them, they would have gone through with it. They blamed me for ruining their lives, said it was to make sure I didn’t do it to anyone else.”

Anders whirls suddenly in his hold to face Mitchell for the first time since the conversation began. “I swear, Mitchell, I never meant to ruin anything for them. I didn’t... I thought we were just going to have a night or two of fun and they wanted the same, that would be the end of it. I never realize until it’s too late that it’s Bragi that drew them to me in the first place...”

The brunet nods reassuringly and leads Anders over to sit on the bed, pressing a hot mug of tea into his hands and hoping he’ll find it as soothing as Mitchell himself does. “I believe you, Anders.” He rakes his fingers gently through his hair and tries valiantly to suppress the acid pain from Anders’ blood that’s beginning to eat away at him again. “I guess it’s lucky Axl was there to help then.”

Anders snorts into his tea. “It would have been if that dipshit hadn’t been the one to let them into my home in the first place. Him and his mate Zeb ran out of booze, so they came over to drink mine. I was out, but Axl got impatient and broke my fucking door. I got home to find the five of them having a party in my living room. If I hadn’t been agreeably drunk already, I would have kicked the lot of them out.

“As it was, I woke up from being drugged wearing nothing but my pants and crude words in sharpie, Axl standing over me with a butcher’s knife that he slammed into the bed between my legs. My cute baby bro blamed me for the whole thing and tried to use his authority as Odin to ban me from sleeping with mortals.”

In Mitchell’s shocked silence, Anders gets up and starts pacing, his volume rising as he rants. ‘Where does that prick get off, assuming he can command _my_ life? When Valerie dumped Mike he started using women as currency in bets he can’t lose, but I use Bragi with a few interested parties and I have to be banned from sex forever? Him and Mike are both such fucking hypocrites. Me using _my_ powers for my own reasons is selfish, but it’s fine for them to command mine or use their own for _their_ benefit.

“You know, I heard that Mike got Michele to prove her abilities by making Stacey fall for Zeb for a few days? How is that any better than what I do? At least the people I use Bragi on for sex are _interested_ in me first. Zeb is disgusting, and Stacey wouldn’t have gone near him for any other reason, but she spent _three days_ having sex with him because she believed she loved him.”

Mitchell sits quietly and listens, reeling from everything that Anders is telling him. How could anyone treat their own family this way? It’s such a different world from the loving way he was raised, and although much has changed, he doesn’t believe that the meaning of ‘family’ has altered so drastically. He lets Anders vent uninterrupted, humming occasionally to show he’s listening and trying not to curl in on the pain winding his insides tight.

“And don’t get me started on Ty,” Anders continues. “He gets after me all the time for using Bragi on Dawn, though mostly I use my powers to make her _believe_ my compliments. Then, as soon as he wants something from her, what does he do? He asks me to talk her around.

“All people ever seem to want me for is Bragi. Olaf has called me a few times from a holding cell to talk him out of drug charges, Mum sent me all the way to goddamned Norway so I could use my powers to find Yggdrasil, I’m sure Dad would have a use for me if he hadn’t fucked off when I was thirteen, though he never had before. Even fucking _Colin_ wants to use me. He can shove his damn briefcase full of money right up his arse, the wanker.”

This time when Anders paces past, Mitchell reaches out to snag his wrist and tug him back to the bed. “I don’t want you because of Bragi,” he mumbles into Anders’ waves, arms wrapped snug around him. The brunet breathes deeply, enjoying his clean scent with no lingering trace of blood.

“I know,” he sighs, relaxing into Mitchell’s hold. “Thank you. But fucking Mike tried telling me you only wanted me for a fuck or to talk people into letting you bite them.” He squeaks when Mitchell’s arms reflexively tighten with the fury that surges through him with the suggestion.

“I would _never._..”

“I know, Mitch. He might have been more convincing had you not asked to take things slow, or been so clearly avoiding blood; I’m used to people wanting to use me. But with this bond between us, I can tell that you’ve never even considered either.”

They sit in comfortable silence after that, Anders enjoying the feeling of Mitchell’s long fingers carding through his hair, and finally being able to speak to someone who won’t judge him about all this after bottling it up for so long. This time, it’s Mitchell who breaks the silence first.

“Anders? What did you mean when you said you learned not to try to defend yourself a long time ago?” He’s hesitant to ask, but it seems to be a rare chance that Anders is so open.

The other man sighs heavily and scrubs a hand over his beard, burrowing further into Mitchell’s side. “Mum and Dad were terrible parents. It seems that historically, gods and goddesses don’t get on at all, but still tend to be insanely attracted to each other. Dad would smack Mum around, or shout at her. Mum would retaliate with nasty words or ruining things he liked... When they weren’t going after each other they targeted us. Ty was Mum’s favourite, and Mike was Dad’s. But me...” Anders shrugs helplessly. “I grew up as the family scapegoat, since Mum and Dad got tired of going after the other’s favoured kid. On top of that, I was the odd man out, always scrawny, different, and not ‘manly’ enough for Dad.

“Things were better for Axl because he was too little for Dad to bother with before he shot through. And with Dad not around to provoke her, Mum wasn’t nasty as often either. But by then, ‘blame Anders if something goes wrong’ was a habit. Mike got it from Dad, Ty got it from Mum, and Axl got it from Mike.”

He shrugs again. “I mean, it’s not like I never fuck up, but it would be nice to get the benefit of the doubt, yeah? _Axl_ never has to take responsibility for anything. And Mike doesn’t believe that _he_ ever makes mistakes in the first place.”

“Anders...” it seems to be all Mitchell can manage to day tonight, he’s so stunned. He’s guessed that his lover had a rough childhood, but he was expecting neglect, not abuse. No wonder the Johnsons are so dysfunctional. It explains a lot about Anders and his defense mechanisms. “What can I do to help?”

The blond snorts a laugh. “Honestly, I’m not sure there’s anything that can be done about my family. They’re not so bad most days, the worst of it is in the past and I try to leave it there.” Mitchell’s face falls when Anders says there’s nothing he can do, but the blond notices his slump and continues, “just having someone listen like you have been is great. There’s no one else who will let me get this out without trying to justify everything.

“And even if you can’t fix my family, I’d really appreciate it if you could scare the shit out of Mike where I can see.”

The vampire smiles wickedly, lip curling to bare a pointed canine. “I would enjoy that myself. I’m not sure the message sunk in properly earlier, although I appreciated Michele’s backup.”

“How did you know to come anyways? You had perfect timing. Did you turn into a bat and fly or something?”

The brunet shakes his curly head, chuckling. “Nothing so arcane. I could feel your panic through the bond. I told Cooper I’d gotten an emergency call and bolted, so if there are any news stories tomorrow about a freakish blur, that was me.” He pauses for a moment before adding, “and ‘perfect timing’ would have been before you were injured at all.”

Anders pulls out of his hold enough to turn and look him in the eye. “You got there as fast as you could, and did your best to help. That’s what matters to me.”

Unfortunately, the vampire ruins the moment when a particularly violent spasm of pain lurches through him. Mitchell doubles over with a loud cry, cracking his forehead off Anders’ as he tries to curl in around the ache.

“Oww, fuck! What was that for?” Anders reels back clutching his bruised skull.

Mitchell forces an answer out through teeth gritted in pain. He tries to keep his tone light but fails badly. “Remember how I told you I was fine? Well, I sort of lied. It was impossible to avoid swallowing your blood and it’s catching up with me.”

As soon as he makes his admission, Anders’ hands are all over him as if searching for a visible injury to treat. “Christ, are you going to be alright? Why the hell were you even doing that in the first place, did I look like some tasty snack?”

He groans, toppling over to curl in a tiny ball of misery. “No! I would never...you’re not...I wouldn’t feed from you, Anders. I told you, vampiric saliva has a healing agent, I was trying to use it to close the wounds.” His voice thickens further, “I’m so glad Michele had Yggrdrasil there. Your neck...it was torn too far open. I couldn’t do enough.” A tear trickles down to land in the bedding, and Mitchell honestly can’t tell if it’s from the pain or the thought of what might have happened if Yggdrasil didn’t heal in Michele’s hands.

Anders pushes some unruly curls from where they’ve fallen across his face and rests a hand on his forehead as if to check his temperature. “Right, everything was so fuzzy earlier, I forgot you said that. But don’t think I didn’t notice you avoiding my question. Will you be alright?”

“I think so? I’m pretty sure if I was going to die, it would have killed me already.”

He’s unprepared for the smack to the back of his head. “You idiot. Why would you do something like that if it could kill you?”

“Hey! I wasn’t exactly thinking of anything but you lying there bleeding to death.” Mitchell turns to smile softly at the blond, reaching out to run a hand over his thigh. “It didn’t kill me, and this pain is worth it to have you alive and well.”

Anders chokes on what sounds suspiciously like a sob, and just for a moment Mitchell can see the bright sheen of tears in his eyes before it’s once again tucked away like all of his vulnerabilities. But his eyes are softer when he looks at the brunet, and his hand is gentle as he strokes through his curls. “I still say you’re an idiot. I guess it’s my turn to ask though, is there anything I can do to help?”

Mitchell shakes his head weakly. “Mostly time and rest is what I need. Although if you have a hot water bottle that would help.”

Anders looks regretful. “Sorry, I don’t.”

“S’ok,” Mitchell smiles a little. “Help me by helping yourself then. I can’t exactly make you drink fluids when I’m pretty sure I can’t stand up. And nothing alcoholic!”

“I can do that. Anything else?”

“Tell me another story?”

Anders laughs affectionately at the request, lying down beside him and tugging the covers over them both. “ ** _A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away..._** ”

Mitchell closes his eyes, letting the words and the warmth wash over him. He’d go through this pain anytime if it means he can stay with Anders like this. Though he’s not naive enough to think Anders’ purge tonight has healed old wounds, or that his brothers might learn from today, those are all problems for another day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all of you readers who have stuck with me from the beginning, joined along the way, or have just found this story. I appreciate every comment, every kudos, everyone who took the time to let me know what they thought. A huge thank you to TheGreenSorceress and datsunblue for all of their help and feedback along the way! It's been a wonderful journey.
> 
> This is not the end of my stories for these boys! I will definitely be writing a sequel as well as some side stories that didn't fit in the main narrative. If you have any suggestions for those, please drop me a line here or on tumblr. I love hearing from you all.

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find me on tumblr at thecopperriver.tumblr.com


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